


Forsaking the Shadows

by ptw30



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: College Ball, Everyone shows up eventually, Fluffity Fluff Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, KagaKuro - Freeform, KagaKuro Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 63,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The KagaKuro Story Where Kuroko Will Pretty Much Do Anything for Kagami, Including But Not Limited to Traversing the World’s Largest Ocean, Changing His Basketball, Forsaking the Shadows, and Letting Him Go  </p><p>OR </p><p>Kuroko no College Basketball</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 297 or 428, Depending Upon How You Look at It (But Tetsu Isn’t Counting)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tangy_Citrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangy_Citrus/gifts).



> This story takes place after [How Kagami Became Best Friends with Akashi](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3431132) (So Akashi and Tetsu are bros; that’s all you need to know.)
> 
> Special thanks to Tangy_Citrus for wanting a longer version of the drabbles I wrote in "On and Off the Court."

Two hundred and ninety-two days. Not that Tetsuya was counting, but if he were—which he’s not—he and Kagami have been going out for 292 days. He counted from the day Kagami grabbed him by the waist and dragged him to the ground before assaulting him with a soul-sucking kiss that all but left Tetsuya breathless and even more infatuated with his new boyfriend—if that were possible. 

If he counted from that first day of basketball practice, when he got to ogle Kagami without his shirt on—for which he will be eternally grateful to Coach—then it was 423. 

Which left less than 675 days they would be together—give or take. 

But Tetsuya tried not to think about that. After all, a lot could happen between now and their high school graduation. An asteroid could hit the Earth and destroy it completely. Tetsuya’s own brother could take over the world and declare all suitors for his little brother must not be named “Kagami Taiga.” Hell, Murasakibara might even flood the planet with icing if they weren’t careful. 

But as their second year at Seirin marched on and their road to the Inter High began, Tetsuya watched the scouts in the stands, armed with their malicious pens and judging with every click. He watched as their once empty notebooks became filled with notes and decisions, and he watched Kagami’s eyes steer upwards and tremble with each passing game, wondering and hoping. 

Tetsuya’s heart broke a little more each time. 

On day 297 (or 428), the straw dropped out of Tetsuya’s mouth, dribbling tiny pellets of vanilla milkshake down its side. From across the table, Kagami stopped chomping on his fifteenth cheeseburger and regarded him with a slight tilt of his head. He disregarded the two cheeseburgers currently shoved in his cheeks as he asked, “What? It’s not like we haven’t talked about it before.”

No, that was true. Kagami made it no secret of his desire to finish out high school in Japan and then head back to the States. And since Himuro was scheduled to head back to L.A. this summer to start college and basketball practice, Tetsuya knew what Kagami’s eventual plans would be.

But knowing them and realizing them were two totally different things.

Tetsuya quickly regrouped, sipping on his milkshake again. “So you’ve finalized it.”

“Well, no, not yet,” Kagami admitted as he began munching again, “but the UCLA scouts were at the Winter Cup last year to look at Aniki. They saw our game and reached out to Coach. They’re going to come back this year and see, but…” Kagami’s voice drifted on, and he shrugged. “Barring anything major, they’ll probably recruit me with a full scholarship.”

They would. Tetsuya had no doubts about his boyfriend’s basketball abilities.

“I see,” was all he said and stared outside of Maji Burger, watching the people pass with their concerns and worries, but Tetsuya allowed himself a moment of self-pity.

Aomine boasted how he was getting calls from American elite college teams and made no secret of his aims for next summer. Kise was debating between modeling and basketball after high school, and by the number of offers his agent received for pilots and guest appearances, he sure was sure to make it big in showbiz. Midorima would follow in his doctor-father’s footsteps at Todai or some other swanky school, and Murasakibara wanted to go into pastry making. It suited him, Tetsuya mused.

Aniki also looked to be States-bound, receiving offers from high level schools and elite basketball teams. Stanford University was the school that seemed to appear most frequently upon his laptop when Tetsuya “borrowed” it last week, and if he asked, Aniki would no doubt tell him of his plans. But Tetsuya didn’t want to know. Not yet.

He didn’t want to know he was being left behind. _Again._

Kagami pushed a pamphlet in front of Tetsuya, bringing his eyes and thoughts back to the present. The paper was faded and stained from what appeared to be ketchup and grease, but there were certain sections highlighted and circled.

“So they don’t have an education study program. I checked,” Kagami began, this time with an empty mouth and trembling hands, “but some preschools here don’t require a license to teach, especially in private schools. Plus, the Teaching License requires a set of classes and practice teaching, and the Japanese Board of Education do accept educational classes overseas as credits. So it’s not impossible to get certified if you study something else, especially English. _And_ UCLA does have an education studies minor. Now, if you decide to stay in America and teach, there’s something called the Praxis which you can take, and if you go what they call ‘alternate route,’ you don’t need an elementary education degree either. So it’s not ideal, but I really think that UCLA is a great fit for us basketball-wise and—”

“Excuse me, Kagami-kun.” Tetsuya wasn’t sure he’d spoken, even after hearing his own voice. It sounded weak, strained, and somehow hopeful, amidst the fluttering of his heart and the sudden thumping in his chest. “Do you think you can repeat that?”

“All of it?” Kagami scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, but not word-for-word.”

“Just the last part.”

“About UCLA being a great fit? Well, Tatsuya’s there, and my dad’s nearby. And the campus is in L.A., which I’m not going to lie. It’s not as pretty as Tokyo, but you’ll get used to it.”

Tetsuya swallowed hard, and his milkshake was all but forgotten in his hand as it dripped condensation all over his pants. “You—You want me to come with you to L.A.?”

“Well, yeah, you’re my shadow—and my light,” Kagami said easily, as if that explained everything.

And perhaps, it did. 

But it wouldn’t change reality, so Tetsuya put his cup down on the table, dropped his legs to the floor, and stared straight into Kagami’s bright eyes. 

“Kagami-kun, no matter how good you are or what connections you have, you have to know that they will not recruit me.”

Kagami sat back in his chair, all smug and hopeful. “UCLA scouts are coming to this year’s Inter High. I’ve already spoken to them about you, and they said—“

“ ‘He’s about a foot too short and missing every skill imaginable.’ ”

“—that they’ll watch you play. You’re not shortest guy to ever play basketball, Kuroko. You’re five-foot-nine now, and they’ve been a handful of short players in the league.”

“But—”

“I’m not leaving you behind, dumbass.” He tossed Testu a burger and wiped some excess ketchup from his chin. “So shut up, eat your burger, and work your ass until they take you.”

Tetsuya stared at Kagami long enough for his boyfriend to squirm and demand, “What?" 

Tetsuya lifted himself over the table and pecked his boyfriend’s lips. “Kagami-kun is a wonderful boyfriend, and I hope to work my ass off for him tonight.”

“Ooh! Don’t say that in public!”


	2. SoCal or Bust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Eprime for editing this! She rocks! She also read over the first chapter, so it's all sparkly now!

Hard work doesn’t always lead to success. The scouts sat down with Tetsuya after Seirin’s game versus Touou. It had been brutal, each side fighting their hardest until there was nothing left. Both Kagami and Aomine went into the zone, and Tetsuya did as well—his very first time. Perhaps he knew that if he didn’t, he’d have no chance to impress the scouts, and he’d disappoint Kagami. 

Tetsuya never wanted to disappoint Kagami. 

And now he understood what his friends blubbered about. The Zone was brilliant. It was amazing. It was indescribable other than with adjectives, and while in it, only Kagami could catch Tetsuya’s passes. 

They coordinated their attack, much like they had against Akashi in last year’s final, and with Tetsuya’s knowledge of Aomine’s moves, they were finally able to break pass the Touou ace, but it wasn’t enough to stop the other four players who worked their hardest, too. And Aomine—who passed to them. Seirin lost by five. 

Kagami offered his services as a translator, but Tetsuya really wished he hadn’t. He was halfway through translating a sentence—

“—worked really hard, and we admire your drive. But we just don’t think you’ll be a great—”

—when Kagami shot to his feet, shouting a barrage of words in English Tetsuya didn’t understand. The scouts replied calmly in low tones, obviously trying to soothe Kagami’s burned feelings, and Tetsuya would forever be grateful for Kagami’s loyalty. 

But it wasn’t worth his future. 

Tetsuya tugged on Kagami’s uniform jacket and despite his smaller size, managed to yank Kagami back into his seat. “It’s all right, Kagami-kun. Apologize for your outburst and thank them for their time.”

“But—!” 

“They saw what they came to see, and my basketball does not fit their current style of play. They’re not being mean. They are being realistic, and you should reply in kind.”

One of the scouts began to talk again, looking directly at Tetsuya as he did so. When he finished, Tetsuya glanced at Kagami, who rubbed the back of his neck. 

“He says you were pretty amazing, despite your size, but you’re too short. And though you’re a specialist, you need more skills than just a handful of moves. Dribbling, shooting—your invisible shot is unique but not enough to sustain your play. They’re looking for players who can evolve and grow in the four years of college and…”

The scout spoke again, this time with his hands, and an infinitesimal grin began to form on Kagami’s face. “…and so we will not recruit you at this time. However, you are welcome to come to try-outs and attempt to walk-on next winter. If we see improvement, I will speak to the coach and see if we have a position for you on the bench.”

Tetsuya stood and bowed, and then accepted the handshakes the men offered before Tetsuya stumbled out of the arena. He wasn’t sure how he expected the meeting to go. For some reason, he never imagined they would accept him on the team easily, but after playing in perhaps the best game of his life, alongside his partner who dominated the floor, he expected…more. More encouragement. More enthusiasm. More…hope. 

Instead, he was told his style of play—if not his philosophy—was flawed, and other than miracle, there would be no way he would play on the court with Kagami after high school. 

That was perhaps the most devastated thought he’d had since his time at Teikou. His eyes probably looked like Ogiwara-kun’s after that horrible debacle. 

A large hand slapped down on his head, digging into the strands and cupping his noggin. “So, that was pretty awesome.”

Tetsuya blinked up at Kagami but was too dismayed to hit off his hand. “I have no sense of humor, Kagami-kun, so I’d appreciate it—”

Kagami snorted. “Yeah, right. Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you. And you didn’t think it went well? They left the door open, Kuroko. They’re welcoming you to training camp. That’s pretty cool. The rest is up to you, so I’m not worried.”

Now Tetsuya smacked off Kagami’s hand. “I don’t understand.”

“We’ve always left it to you, haven’t we?” Kagami smiled so wide, Tetsuya thought his face might split. “Against Midorima, against Kirisaki Daichi, against Aomine and Yosen and Kaijo, and even Akashi. You were always the one who led us to victory, Kuroko. So the fact that the ball’s in your court—isn’t that a good thing? All you need to do is evolve your basketball and get stronger. That’s what playing sports are all about, and if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Tetsuya looked so intensely into Kagami’s eyes that Kagami swatted him. “I’m not a vanilla milkshake, dumbass.”

Tetsuya laughed and glanced away, blushing under his long bangs. “Sorry, Kagami-kun.”

“Yeah, well. Come on. You played a hell of game. Milkshake’s on me.”

“That’s very generous of Kagami-kun. Did Aomine-kun hit you on the head during the game?”

“Oi! Come here, you little bastard!”

Tetsuya managed to duck Kagami’s swipe but stayed close to him. He wanted that free milkshake, and after the utter battle they endured—on the court and after the game—he deserved it. 

But as they made their way down the walkway from the arena and toward Maji Burger, Tetsuya snuck a glance up at Kagami-kun, who was typing away, probably to his dad or Tatsuya. Even though they were out of the first tournament of the year, Kagami still vibrated with energy and glowed with hope, enough for both of them. 

Perhaps that why he was the shadow and Kagami was his light.

“So we’ll start with the Lehman Drills,” Seijuro proclaimed less than fifteen minutes later, huddling about table at Maji Burger. “From there, we’ll work on your shooting and dribbling, combined with your weak presence, to create your new basketball.”

“You’re going to combine his weak presence with the typical skills?” Kagami asked, placing down a vanilla shake in front of Tetsuya and a chocolate one in from of Seijuro. “What will that do?”

“You remember how lethal Tetsuya’s invisible drive and invisible shot were? Imagine if he could sustain that level of surprise and command for forty minutes.” Seijuro took a sip of his drink as Tetsuya took a sip of his, forcing a barked laugh from Kagami. 

“Would you mind telling us what you found so funny, Kagami-kun?” Tetsuya demanded. 

Kagami swallowed his cheeseburger. “You two look the same when you sip your milkshakes. It’s freaking hysterical.”

“I’m glad we can amuse you,” Seijuro snapped before once more regarding his brother. “So we’ll master those maneuvers before we reach out to Izuki-san and Takao-kun for help expanding your eyesight beyond the teammates you trust unequivocally.”

“To make him…what? Kuroko doesn’t even play a position now.”

Seijuro offered Kagami a tolerant glare. “You and Aomine-kun are annoyingly similar.”

“Oi! What did you say?”

“Aniki.” Tetsuya wet his lips, his mind shocked as his milkshake melted between his warm hands. “Are you saying I could be…a point guard?”

A guilty, shameful expression darkened Seijuro’s face. “I should apologize to you, Tetsuya. You have unparalleled observation skills, even if you do not have my natural athletic abilities.”

“Ouch,” Kagami muttered. 

“It is the truth, but it does not mean you do not have the necessary skills to be an exceptional point guard. I wanted to keep your skills specialized, as it would allow you to be most effective on the team at Teikou. I wanted to keep your presence weak because we— _I_ —lost the very people whom I wanted to keep, and with you not being able to combat with your own power, a shadow among five lights, I knew I would never…lose…you…” he ended in a whisper. 

Kagami shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Tetsuya focused entirely upon Seijuro, who ducked his head but didn’t shy away from the intense gaze. He reached out, folding their fingers together, his own face calm and thankful. 

“Is that why chose Stanford? To be close to me?”

“Yes,” Seijuro admitted. “You’re my little brother, and I look forward to playing you again on the college level.”

Tetsuya’s heart jumped in his chest. “You are too confident. We have yet to begin training.”

“The best point guards set the rhythm of the game, both on the offensive side and the defensive side. They are playmakers. They move the ball—which is your specialty. They trust their players, and their players trust them explicitly. And while some stand out as great, the ones who are perhaps the best are invisible, working behind-the-scenes to make other players shine. You will be that point guard, Tetsuya.”

He said it with such confidence, Tetsuya couldn’t help but be awestruck. Once the sudden warmth in his stomach settled, he sipped his shake and retreated into the corner to hope again. 

“What about Furihata?” Kagami asked after he finished off his tenth hamburger. 

Seijuro shrugged. “His shot is better than any second-year. Your coach is observant, so she’ll recognize this talent and have him train with Hyuga-san to master it.”

Kagami scrunched his nose in disdain. “You’re freaking weird.”

“This is when Aniki uses his power for good,” Tetsuya replied with two quick sips. “You should see him when he uses it for evil.”

Seijuro rolled his eyes. “I simply placed your beast upon the terrace to do his business.”

“It was raining.”

“He should have known better to use my dirty clothes as a toilet.”

“You left him there for almost ten minutes.”

“Perhaps you should check on him more often.”

“Perhaps Aniki should not leave his clothes on the floor—”

“—in my own room, Tetsuya. They were on the floor in my room—”

Kagami laughed again, but this time, he received a shower—in the form of vanilla and chocolate milkshakes. 

*^*^*

“Are you going down to Rakuzan for part of the vacation?” Riko asked, leaning against the doorway of the locker room with an unnerving, quasi-sadistic smile. 

With his hair still wet from his after-practice shower, Tetsuya carefully placed his towel in his bag, eyeing her—and the folded paper in her hand—distrustfully. “…yes. Aniki invited me down as many of Rakuzan’s members do not go home for the break.”

“Then I understand you will have access to their excellent training facilities.”

“…yes.”

“Will you be taking part in their practices?”

Tetsuya shrugged. “Aniki hasn’t said anything but perhaps the ones that don’t involve strategy. Coach, is there something you wanted—”

A frightening wide smile grew upon her face, and she pounced, shoving the papers in his suddenly trembling hand. “This is your training regimen for the rest of the break. I developed it with my father. It’s a new approach on endurance training with different techniques I’m sure Akashi will be able to implement down there.”

Tetsuya unfolded it with the utmost respect and choked on his own spit when he read all the exercises, reps, and extended time spans. “Coach, is there something wrong with my current regimen?”

Riko flung her arm about his neck and pulled him close. “I might not have an emperor eye or a quasi-emperor eye, but I watch my players, Kuroko-kun. You’ve been watching Izuki pretty much closely when you’re on the bench, and in practice, your own basketball is changing, evolving. You have an eye on the starting point guard position next year, don’t you?”

Tetsuya glanced away, his cheeks warm with shame for some reason. “You know what the UCLA recruiter said.”

She would. She was his coach and had spoken to the scouts before and after their interview. 

“Yes,” she admitted with a soft, indulgent smile. “And he told me he was looking forward to seeing how you develop. We all are, Kuroko-kun, and it seems you’ve been getting help from your brother, and Takao-kun and others, if I’m right about your play. This is the next step. Despite how amazing all the Miracles are, the point guard must be the most conditioned player on the court. He must lead both the offense and defense, and Akashi knows that. He’ll take this and make it a reality before Winter Cup preliminaries start.”

Tetsuya held the paper like a treasured gift and bowed, despite Riko’s hold upon him. “Yes. Thank you, Coach.”

Then he found out the reason for her sadistic smile. “And to pay me back, find out at least one of Rakuzan’s plays.”

“Coach…”

“Just one! I’m not asking you to steal their playbook, but hey, if Akashi happens to leave it around unprotected…”

*^*^*

Tetsuya took to bouncing the ball between his legs, around his back, and even around his back and through his legs. When he walked to school with Kagami, they started doing a variety of passing techniques, like knocking the ball with their elbows, off of buildings, and even off each other. It was a running game, where they couldn’t travel, and the first one to lose the ball or commit a foul brought the other a burger or milkshake. 

Once, when they were nearing school, Tetsuya bounced it between his legs and kicked it up with his heel. 

“Illegal! Kicking the ball is not allowed,” Kagami grumbled, but Tetsuya could tell he was more impressed than anything. The practices with Seijuro, Takao, and Izuki were improving his skills, and where he once struggled to simply hold the ball, he now excelled. 

Even better than Kagami. 

But it was the way he held the ball that helped his basketball evolve. Though usual dribbling required only touching the ball with fingertips, Tetsuya maintained complete control by brushing his palm across the ball with every dribble. It was brief, perhaps even unnoticeable to anyone, but it allowed him to go from dribbling to passing without holding the ball in two hands. Being a pass specialist allowed him a seamless transition, much like Himuro’s fluid shots. Together on UCLA’s team, he and Himuro would be formidable, and with Kagami as their power forward, they would be unstoppable. 

Tetsuya blew out a breath, forming a cloud in the cooling autumn air, and cocked a challenging smirk. “Kagami-kun, it is not polite to pout when losing.”

“I’m not losing! That was an illegal move, you bastard!”

“But too awesome to be called in a game.”

“That’s not true, and you know it! You owe me ten cheeseburgers for your lies on top of losing!”

Tetsuya eventually conceded, only because he had yet to try any of his new moves in a game. He still maintained his position as the phantom player of Seirin, filling his role as best he could with his invisible drive and passes. With Kyioshi playing point under the basket and Izuki playing point from the top of the paint, a third point guard would just get into the way and mess up their team balance. The march to the second and last Winter Cup with their senpai was approaching, and Tetsuya wanted a repeat. 

Too bad his senpai wouldn’t have it. 

Suginami West High was one of their first preliminary games again. Hyuga drew the team into their usual huddle and met each one of their eyes before settling on Tetsuya. “This is it. This is the third years’ last Winter Cup war, and we wouldn’t have made it without the help our strong and rather strange kouhai.”

“Hey!” Kagami said with no venom and a slap that threatening to propel Tetsuya into the middle of the circle. “Don’t talk about Kuroko like that. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

Tetsuya raised an amused eyebrow. “I think Captain was talking about you, Kagami-kun.”

“Anyway,” Hyuga took command with a tense huff, “this battle will be anything but easy like last year’s path.”

The team let out a mixture of laughs and snickers, but Hyuga continued undaunted, “So this year, we’ll need to use our whole bench in order to make it to the top, starting today.”

Tetsuya felt the slap on his back, and he knew from the smaller size and drastically less force that it wasn’t from Kagami. Izuki then wrapped an arm about his neck and drew him close. “We know you won’t come up short…shorty.”

Tetsuya barely ducked the water bottles and towels that flew Izuki’s way, but then the huddle reformed. After a death threat or twelve by Hyuga, he shouted, “Seirin!”

And together, the team responded, “FIGHT!”

Tetsuya had played in three national championships, winning all of them, and yet he still balled his fists in hopes of curbing his trembling. This game was no different than the others. Sure, he was in charge of the offense, and instead of being paired with the weakest fighter of the team, he now would be fighting head-to-head with arguably their opponent’s best player. 

No one was more terrifying than his own brother in that role, but still—what the hell was thinking trying to fill Izuki’s shoes? It wasn’t just his own dreams on the line now; it was his team’s, his surrogate family’s. 

Kagami’s, too. 

But then Kagami was there, offering his fist with a smile that teetered from encouraging to frightening. “Are you ready to show them your new basketball?”

“I’m not sure they remember my old basketball, Kagami-kun.”

“No one could forget it after we won the championship last year.”

“You do realize it is me you’re talking…” but the words died upon his tongue as Tetsuya saw each and every head upon the court turn to see him—actually observe him walking toward the circle. 

It was unnerving, to say the least. Before, all their games had been against people _he’d_ played against, so it was hit or miss if they’d remember him. More often than not, they did, which surprised Tetsuya. Suginami West High, however, was the team their senpai took care of without him and Kagami last year. There was no reason for this team to know him, let alone be able to see him. 

How would be maintain his weak presence in the game?

The defeatist thoughts died the moment he returned Kagami’s fist pump and lined up at the circle, and then, Tetsuya worked on auto-pilot. Kiyoshi won the tip-off, tapping the ball to Hyuga, who immediately passed it to Tetsuya. He was moving before he even knew it, the instincts he learned from practicing with Rakuzan and the Uncrowned Generals, and the skills he honed while playing street ball with the Generation of Miracles and Kagami, taking over. He wove between two guards, who barely noticed him due to his burst of speed and weak presence, and took off in a new variation of the run and gun offense. Kagami was there, then, ready to receive the past, but so was the opponent’s center. Mitobe was the better choice, and though he looked directly at Kagami, Tetsuya felt the ball skim his palm. With a trust they’d formed through battle, Tetsuya and Mitobe connected without either meeting the other’s eyes. 

The transition between catch, dribble, and pass was so smooth it left many wondering if he’d ever held the ball after Mitobe went in for the dunk. 

The horn sounded less than a moment later. 

“Black, member change!”

Izuki was standing next to table, Coach at his side.

But he’d hardly started. How had he screwed up already? 

Izuki must have seen the disappointment upon his face—many of his teammates could read his emotions now—and didn’t let go of his hand after the slap. “Thanks for the breather, but it was very _air_ -raising.”

“You’re an airhead!” Hyuga screamed across the court. 

“Kuroko-kun,” Coach called once she sat on the edge of the bench and patted the spot right next to her. When he flopped down, Furihata threw a towel over his head while Coach drew him close, her arm coiling like a snake about his neck. It was like he wanted to choke him, which might have actually been the case. 

“Kuroko-kun,” she began again, “when were you going to tell me your new-developed skills are on par with the Generation of Miracles?”

“ _Coach,_ ” he rasped, “ _I can’t breathe._ ”

“I’ve seen you in practice, but this—this was a level I didn’t expect to see during a game-- _your_ first game as a point guard.” That seemed to only fuel her fury as the arm tightened. “I’m not going to let our future opponents know about your new skills.”

When Coach finally released him, Tetsuya sucked in a sharp inhale before hunching over on the bench and allowing Coach’s words to sink in. Skills on par with the Generation of Miracles? A tiny smile perked upon his lips, hidden underneath his towel and bangs. 

Tetsuya didn’t get his first real test in the point guard position until their third game of the tournament, against his own self-proclaimed enemy, though by now, Takao was a friendly rival whom Tetsuya welcomed as a competitor and earlier in the summer, as a teacher. When the game started, Tetsuya wasn’t nervous, just burning with excitement, and he allowed it to fuel his game. 

They began with the run-and-gun offense, so his connection with Kagami wasn’t entirely irregular. Between Kiyoshi and him, they managed to get past Midorima for a quick two-points, but they decided to quickly transition to a full-court press right after the first basket. That was where Tetsuya made his first big play. He ghosted behind Takao, which wasn’t anything knew, and waited for Midorima to throw in the ball. He even let Takao catch it, and though he might have had enhanced stamina now, thanks to Coach and his brother, he still wasn’t up to the level of most players. 

Takao would have him beat by the end of the game, so instead, Tetsuya led Takao to the end line and just as Takao crossed over to head backwards, slammed the ball with his Ignite Pass formation. The ball zoomed toward the basket, right into Kagami’s hands for an alley-oop. 

With Midorima and a new first year’s help, Shutoku broke through the full-court press, and Seirin headed back on defense. They went with a box-and-one defense, letting Kagami go head-to-head with Midorima. (Izuki made some pun earlier about how Takao and Tetsuya went toe-to-toe because they were short. Hyuga actually lunged for him that time, but Tetsuya spared Izuki with a well-placed foot.) 

Tetsuya sunk into the paint, helping to cut off the cross-court passes, and his height, as always, was a detriment. But he was on the players the moment ball landed in their hands, and once, when it was Midorima, Tetsuya actually managed to steal the ball when in the triple-threat position. 

And he brought it up the court. This wasn’t new to Midorima or any of the Generation of Miracles, and Takao, as one of three tutors, knew his weaknesses better than anyone (except maybe Aniki). So when Tetsuya combined his invisible drive with a smooth, no-look pass to Hyuga—utilizing a skill much like a hawk’s eye—perfectly rhythmed like Akashi’s style of play, it surprised even him. 

“You were holding out on me,” Takao accused between breaths as the ball swished through the net. 

Tetsuya managed a sheepish smile. “I do not know to what you are referring, Takao-kun.”

“Shin-chan said you were a sneaky Aquarius, and I defended you. I won’t make that mistake twice.” Then, he added with a playful smile over his shoulder, “And I’m going to steal one of your passes this game.”

“I accept your challenge, Takao-kun.”

Tetsuya played at the point until midway through the second quarter, and though his invisible drives were harder to accomplish as the game progressed, he still held the skills of a proficient if not exceptional point guard, able to defend the basketball and pass the ball to those who would score.

At half-time, Tetsuya accepted the sliced lemons and listened to Riko’s battle strategies before Kagami fell down next to him and leaned back against the lockers. “You know this isn’t over yet.”

“I’d be disappointed if it were.”

“You going to pull it out this game?”

Tetsuya kept his face blank, though he glanced up at his boyfriend from under his bangs. “I do not pull anything ‘out,’ Kagami-kun.” 

Kagami waited, that annoyingly smug smile never wavering from his face. So Tetsuya sighed and leaned back next to him. Like the other Miracles, Kagami could always tell when he was hiding something. 

“I have tricks up my sleeve,” Tetsuya amended as Kagami laughed, “but we will see how the game progresses before I make anything appear.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to make a Maji Burger appear, would you?” 

“That is beyond the realm of my capabilities.”

“Hm. Thought I’d ask.”

They spent the rest of half-time relaxing and munching, and absentmindedly rolling a ball between them on the bench. It was like a subconscious connection, the reason they had met in the first place, and it gave Tetsuya comfort for the battle ahead. 

Riko put Tetsuya back into the game at the start of the fourth quarter with Shutoku up by five. The battle was intense as the first half, and the team relied on their ace to bring them through. 

And by association, Tetsuya, too. 

Tetsuya worked in tandem with Kagami on offense, finding the holes in Shutoku’s offense and getting the ball into his boyfriend’s hands. Kagami would dunk or pass to Kiyoshi or even back out to Tetsuya, who would feed it over to Hyuga. They went point for point with Shutoku. 

Until three seconds left. 

They were down by one after a Shutoku player missed one of his free-throws, and Tetsuya couldn’t hold back any longer. 

It was a simple move for any player, one of the fundamentals of basketball, yet every time he attempted it, he’d foul up, miserably. But he had no choice. Barreling down the court, Kagami and the rest of Seirin too far behind him to score, Tetsuya took the ball to the basket himself. 

His basketball refused to let him score a normal lay-up. He’d have to use his fingertips, which for some reason always screwed up the rhythm. So instead, as he approached the rim with Takao on his heels, he jumped off his right leg but shot with his left, pushing the ball in the air like he would a pass. 

It slammed hard against the backboard but thunked into the hoop less than a second before the horn sounded. 

Seirin converged upon him then, slapping his back and whooping, and it was Kagami’s mischievous smile that made Tetsuya smile widely. 

“That wasn’t the _it_ I was talking about.”

“You seem delusional, Kagami-kun. Perhaps we should have you examined.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kagami ruffled his hair and led him toward the lineup. 

Midorima took the spot across from him and bowed with the usual pleasantries after the game, but then stepped forward. “You have…progressed even further than I thought was possible.”

Tetsuya took it for the compliment was and bowed. “Thank you, Midorima-kun.”

“Next year will be interesting.”

“And successful for Shutoku,” Takao announced, elbowing Midorima in the gut before lifting up a fist. “We will get our revenge.” 

What once had been his and Aomine’s declaration of friendship, had grown to represent their expanded fraction of lights and shadows, and their respected teams. Where they had all been broken in middle school—even the monsters of Teikou—now they were united in friendly combat that fought upon a battlefield of shared passion. 

Tetsuya returned the fist pump with a challenging smirk. “You will try.”

“Ooh,” Kagami joined, slapping Tetsuya’s shoulder. “Was that a burn? From you.”

“A mild sting, perhaps.”

Midorima shoved up his glasses to fix both of them with a stern expression. “Don’t get too confident. On your side of the bracket is still Kaijo and Rakuzan. Are you strong enough to beat both Kise and your brother?”

They weren’t. 

Despite their senpai’s strong plays and his and Kagami’s new rhythm, Kaijo beat them the next game by single digits. By mid-game, Kise copied Tetsuya’s newest moves, and with his Perfect Copy play, he dominated the court. Kagami and Tetsuya’s tag-teamed him, but in the end, they came up short, despite Tetsuya pulling out his newest move—the invisible triple threat. Unlike most triple threat where the player is stopped and surveys his opponent, Tetsuya managed this while dribbling and moving seamlessly into his next move without the opposite player ever realizing he was being watched. 

After the game, Kise drew Tetsuya close and flopped an arm about his shoulders. “You called me the greatest player at last year’s tournament.”

Tetsuya looked away, letting out a quick grunt. “And you’re going to return the _favor_?” 

“Stings, doesn’t it?”

“But I’m not like you and Kagami-kun, Kise-kun. I’m not that type of player.”

“I stopped Kagamicchi,” Kise admitted, ruffling Tetsuya’s hair. “Despite what you may think, I couldn’t stop you this game. You’ve become the greatest player, Kurokocchi.”

It didn’t help. He gave it his all, and all he received was a terrible aching in his chest—a fierce, unrelenting pain that refused to let up. He barely made it to the locker room before the tears burned his cheeks, and he used his weak presence to slip out before their seniors began their speeches. He’d failed them. He played three quarters. He and Kiyoshi worked in tandem to move the ball. He brought out moves that he’d never shown anyone, even Aniki, and the team battled as one. But it wasn’t enough. He gave it all, and it wasn’t enough. 

And he hated his next thought—like it betrayed the sincere affection and gratitude he felt for his senpai—but while he felt terrible that they’d lost their last tournament as part of Seirin, he feared even more that he wouldn’t be strong enough or good enough for UCLA. 

Or to be Kagami’s partner in college. 

Did he really only have 430 days left with Kagami?

He shifted when he heard someone exit the locker room behind him, and then Kagami’s warm presence was next to him, arm flung about his shoulders and leading him out of the arena. He wasn’t sure even where they were going, and he barely registered he was moving at all until they were on a streetball court and Kagami shoved a ball into his hands. 

He glanced up at Kagami’s own dark face and red-rimmed eyes as his boyfriend took a defensive position, back to the basket. “Let’s go.”

“But—”

“One-on-one. Let’s go.”

Tetsuya hesitated a moment longer, but Kagami gave him an exasperated look he couldn’t refuse. He moved on autopilot, losing the ball the first drive he tried, and Kagami took it to the hoop for a basket. Kagami did the same over and over again, slamming the ball in for multiple dunks like they hadn’t even played a full, exhausting game, and then Tetsuya’s anger ignited. 

The greatest player. How the hell was he was the greatest player? Kise-kun was one of his oldest friends, and he respected Tetsuya as a player and a rival. How could he think Tetsuya was the greatest player, and UCLA not even consider him for their roster? How could he hope to join Kagami and his dominating presence if he couldn’t even stop Kise or Kagami?

And then he did—with a single swipe of the ball. He freed it from Kagami’s grip, dribbled it through his legs, and took it for a layup, scoring effortlessly. He began taking Kagami to task, and they traded points and jabs. Then, once the tears began to fall, Kagami wrapped him in a tight embrace and drew his lips up for a quiet but comforting kiss. 

“It was one loss, Kuroko. A fluke,” he whispered into his boyfriend’s hair. “We’re going to sweep all the tournaments next year. You’ll see.”

Tetsuya buried his face in Kagami’s cooling chest, enjoying the familiar scent of Kagami’s cologne and the game. “Thank you, Kagami-kun.”

“I know you don’t believe that,” Kagami continued, low and serious. “But you don’t have to. That’s why I’m your light. Just trust me, and I’ll get us onto the same court in college.”

A small, sad smile found Tetsuya’s face, one he still hid from his boyfriend. “Kagami-kun is very bold, but he is not a fortune teller.”

“What does your brother think?”

“My brother is not always right, Kagami-kun.”

“But you trust his opinion.”

“I trust yours.”

Kagami hugged him back, hands fisted in the back of Tetsuya’s warm up shirt. “Good.”

*^*^*

Their last year of Seirin was harder than originally expected but enjoyable. Kagami and Tetsuya could be more open about their relationship off the court after Kagami stood on the railing of the school, void of any clothing, and confessed his love for Tetsuya, this time in front of the entire student body. Tetsuya turned a bright red and stumbled through his own confession after such a blunt declaration—and the uncomfortable knowledge that Kagami was definitely checking out his ass as he shouted to the world his own love. 

They held hands every so often, stole kisses and more pleasurable embraces in the locker room and the bathrooms, and had to deal with the occasional homophobic assholes. But surprisingly they were few and far between. 

True to his promise, Kagami led Seirin to the school’s first Inter High championship and then their first summer tournament win. All that was left was the Winter Cup, and Tetsuya was sure if Seirin won that again, he’d impress the UCLA coaches next fall. 

But they lost to Touou by one in the finals.

One basket. One pass. One second could have made all the difference, but it didn’t. As Aomine celebrated with his team, Tetsuya felt his heart shatter in his chest, all the hopes and light he selfishly clung to dissipating in an all-consuming shadow of despair. They’d lost a game, but he’d lost so much more. And Izuki’s pun haunted him even after a year and a half. 

Arms assaulted Tetsuya from behind, entrapping his shoulders and torso in a massive bear hug. “Two out of three ain’t bad,” Kagami’s soothing voice found his ear. 

The hold was too hot and sweaty after the game, but Tetsuya still couldn’t find the strength or desire to pull away. They had less than 200 days together, even if Kagami didn’t know it. 

“Hey, Tetsu!” Aomine yelled once he detached himself from his team and came over with a bright smile. “It’s not over yet. We can still play again. I accepted USC’s offer. I’m going to be in Southern California, too!”

“Man, you’re just like a bad habit,” Kagami roared, but Tetsuya heard the smile in his voice. “We just can’t get rid of you!”

“Oh, come on. You’d be bored without me to battle.”

As Kagami and Aomine exchanged verbal jabs, Tetsuya only felt himself drawn further and further into the abyss. 

His brother, his boyfriend, and now his best friend were all heading to the States. No doubt Kise would follow for Hollywood, if not Murasakibara for Himuro. How would survive without his brightest lights?

Kagami decided to stay in Japan through July before relocating in early August. He assured Tetsuya the coaches worked with UCLA housing to make sure he and Tetsuya were roommates, and they even pulled strings for Nigou to stay in their dorm room, which perhaps touched Tetsuya the most. Even though Kagami talked exclusively in English with Tetsuya for more than a year, even though Kagami allowed him to stay over anytime his father didn’t notice him—which was most days—and even though Kagami kept in contact with the UCLA coaches and never missed an opportunity to plug Tetsuya’s evolving basketball—making sure Nigou could come with them to the States won Tetsuya all over again.

But when Tetsuya didn’t make the team, all Kagami’s hard work would be for nothing. No matter how good he’d become, he wasn’t good enough for walk-on to a NCAA Division I team, and though he grew stronger with a bright light, perhaps his own shadow had grown too powerful, not strong enough to smother the light but dark enough to damper it. 

And he wouldn’t damper Kagami’s. His boyfriend would feel guilty for leading him all the way to America for basketball—even though Tetsuya would follow Kagami anywhere without a reason—and it would crush Kagami, who would be forced to play on the court without his shadow.

So he’d do what he’d done in middle school—hide his feelings and die slowly inside.

The night before they were set to leave, Tetsuya straddled Kagami’s thighs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and pressed his lips against Kagami’s. His boyfriend’s were warm and slightly chapped, but they were Kagami’s and tangible proof of his desire of Tetsuya. Tetsuya closed his eyes and savored the familiar feeling of their pushiness, forcing himself to remember their demanding pressure upon his, the gentle slide of Kagami’s tongue across his bottom lip. Breathing through his nose, he refused to end the embrace until Kagami slid him onto the couch and lay between Tetsuya’s open and inviting thighs. They took their time, reminiscing with their bodies their three years together—or 1,247 days, but again, Tetsuya was not counting—and when Tetsuya called Kagami’s name this time, he used a breathless, “Taiga.”

With his leg flung over Kagami’s and his head resting upon his lover’s chest, Tetsuya stayed awake, content simply to feel the warmth of his partner’s skin, the gentle caress of his breath, and the steady rhythm of his heart. 

Tetsuya made sure to slip out of Kagami’s hold early that morning and dressed quickly, forgoing the shower and clean clothes to return to his father’s apartment. 

His father was fortunately not home, and though the maid, a sweet elderly woman with a kind heart and bright eyes, offered condolences in the form of tea and biscuits, he retreated to his room, huddling under the barely worn covers and hiding from the world. Next week, perhaps he would explain the situation to his father—who wouldn’t even notice he was home until then— and promise to work for him over the course of the next year and apply to a local college for the next term. 

Of course, he’d get a brief but demoralizing lecture about responsibility and commitment, but it would be nothing he hadn’t heard before in some capacity. 

Heavy footsteps boomed from the hallway, definitely not the maid or butler. The “help” were to blend into the background, never to be heard, never to be noticed, so when his bedroom door slammed open, crashing against the wall, he drew the covers over his head and waited for the roaring words. 

“Bastard, you made us miss our flight! I rebooked us on a later one, so grab the rest of your stuff and let’s go!”

Taiga. 

Tetsuya cowered under his blanket. “Go. Just go… _please._ ”

The cold air assaulted him when his blanket was ripped off. “I’m not going without you.”

“You have to, Kagami-kun.” _There’s nothing left of me._ “You need to shine on your own.”

Silence. 

“I was wrong. You’re not a bastard. You’re a dumbass. Don’t you know wherever a light goes, his shadow follows? Maybe the Generation of Miracles forgot that, but I won’t. Ever.” Kagami sat down upon the bed, his hand landing intimately upon Tetsuya’s hip. “You’ve always believed in me…Tetsuya. Don’t lose faith in me now.”

Tetsuya risked a peek to see his light, staring back at him with earnest need. “You were wrong. You said we would sweep the tournaments.”

“I’m not wrong about this. I’m not wrong about _you._ ” Kagami dropped his bag to the floor and laid down next to Tetsuya, so they were parallel on the bed. “About _us._ 1,248 days is a pretty impressive streak.”

Not that Kagami was counting, Tetsuya acknowledged with a gentle smile. “Kagami-kun is a very attentive boyfriend and partner.”

“Oi! We’re going to have to get you a filter once we reach America. No one there talks like that.” 

When Tetsuya’s laughter faded, he whispered, defeated, “My shadow can’t survive so much light. It’ll disappear again, like it did in middle school, and then if it somehow dims yours…”

“Don’t you know the darker the shadow, the brighter the light?” Instead of bumping Tetsuya’s fist, he knotted their fingers and pressed an indulgent kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “And the only reason my light is so bright, is because my shadow is so strong. And you are the strongest person I know, Tetsuya. Don’t run away now when you’ve fought for so long, especially when this is our last battle. Fight for us.”

“But what if I lose?”

“Hey, even if you crash and burn, I win,” Kagami gloated with an overexcited smile and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Taiga-kun, could you possibly phrase that any less harsh?”

“Me? You’re always harsh,” Kagami accused before sighing and brushing away one of Tetsuya’s longer bangs. “I would love to play next to you on the court, but as long as you’re in my life, I’m happy, Tetsuya.”

Tetsuya diverted his eyes from the serious, raw glint in Kagami’s, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Kagami-kun is infuriatingly sappy. You might need to get a filter when we get to America.”

“Hey! Why you little—” But then an excited smile crossed his face when he realized Tetsuya referenced America, and Tetsuya smiled in kind. After all, Kagami’s grins were infuriatingly infectious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake:  
> “Kuroko, we’re in America now. Don’t forget to call me by my first name.”
> 
> Tetsuya looked up from the plane seat next to him, pulling down his headphones. “Taiga?”
> 
> “Yes.” Taiga smiled brightly, pleased. “And I will call you Tetsuya.”
> 
> “I like Tetsu.”
> 
> “Oh.” Duh. “Okay, _Tetsu._ ”
> 
> “Thank you, Taiga-kun.”
> 
> Taiga dropped his head into his hands.


	3. Taiga Believes in Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L.A. suits Taiga; Tetsu misses vanilla milkshakes but falls in love with lattes. Plus try-outs.

“What is the purpose of your visit?”

“To once more share the court with my light.”

Kuroko was rather proud of his fluid albeit accented English, though the custom officer behind the counter blinked before glancing down at his paperwork. “Says here that you’re in America on a student visa.”

“Please excuse him, Officer,” Kagami interrupted from behind, momentarily forgetting which country he was in and bowing slightly. “Tetsu is a little tired from the transpacific flight. We’re both incoming freshman at UCLA.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?” The officer stamped Tetsuya’s passport and his paperwork before Taiga slapped his passport on the desk. Tetsuya blinked at the blue book with the golden eagle and English lettering, and shock shifted his words into Japanese. 

_“You’re an American citizen?”_

“I’m a dual citizen,” Taiga answered in English with a quick smile and a thank you to the officer before picking up his backpack and leading Tetsuya to baggage claim. “Dad’s Japanese and received a transfer here when I was young. His work keeps him moving back and forth, so eventually, he figured it would be easier if we were both citizens.”

It made sense, Tetsuya supposed, and bit his bottom lip to keep his smile contained. Taiga’s hand immediately sought his once the crowds mashed together in the narrow hallway leading to baggage claim, and with Taiga’s constant warmth, Tetsuya didn’t feel scared, now in a foreign country, seemingly inhabited by giants in poorly designed clothing, talking in a language he wasn’t perfectly fluent in. He felt safe, protected, and even cherished when Taiga placed him in front of his larger frame at the baggage carousel and folded his arms over Tetsuya’s shoulders, resting his chin on Tetsuya’s head. It reminded Tetsuya so much of a pose Aomine had taken with Momoi time and time again, but Tetsuya never remembered Taiga being so…open with their relationship before—other than when they professed their love naked on top of Seirin High. 

“Taiga-kun?” Tetsuya asked, glancing upwards. 

Taiga nudged his cheek, directing Tetsuya’s gaze toward two men who kissed openly at the end of the carousel. “There are bigots everywhere, but gay marriage is legal in America.” 

Oh. Tetsuya couldn’t help but let a smirk take his lips, even if Taiga couldn’t see it. “Are you proposing, Taiga-kun?”

Taiga tensed against Tetsuya’s back. “What! W-Well, that—that wasn’t what I was—b-but i-if you want—”

Releasing a silent chuckle, Tetsuya turned and took Taiga’s flushed cheeks in his hands. “Taiga-kun, I’ve crossed an ocean, moved to another country, and changed my basketball to be with you. And we will be living together. I do not need a ring to have your heart.”

As he spoke, his lips shortened the distance between his and Taiga’s until Taiga whispered, “Filter. You need a freakin’ filter.”

“Yet you’re not rebuking my statement, so it must be—”

It was Taiga who finally pressed their lips together, sparking Tetsuya’s desire and demanding he prove his existence once more. They were together after three years with almost a guarantee to be together for another four. If that wasn’t a proposal of some sort, nothing was. 

“So how are we getting to the dorms?” Tetsuya asked once they collected their baggage. They only brought one large bag a piece plus their carry-on, choosing to ship the rest of their stuff for arrival over the next few days. Even Nigou was coming via a pet transport service the next day. 

If Taiga had a hand free, he would have been rubbing the back of his neck as he cringed. “Well, you see—there’s this thing—”

“Tiger!” A man, only slightly taller than Taiga, ambushed him the moment they crossed onto the concourse from the secure customs area. He engulfed Taiga in overly earnest hug, somehow managing to lift the now six-foot-four Taiga off the ground. 

Tetsuya blinked, initially taken off guard by the sudden intrusion in their conversation, but then he surveyed the man’s graying temples, his unruly red highlights upon a black mop, and the wire glasses that framed tame but sincere eyes that closed in pure delight as he once more held his pride and joy. 

Tetsuya could relate, though his affection for Taiga was of an entirely different nature. 

A part of him was envious of Taiga for having such a caring father. His own and he barely exchanged any words before he left. He spent a few days home the week prior to arrange his room and box up the necessary items, and his father stepped up the doorway of his room, not even caring to come completely inside. 

“You’ll be gone next week?” he asked, and Tetsuya thought he heard a twinge of regret in the man’s voice. But he truly believed it was of his own desire, so he never turned from the box he was packing. 

“Perhaps.”

“Your brother chose a school with high educational merits.”

“Yes.”

“You chose an institution that values athletic achievements.”

“Yes.”

“Your brother says you wish to become a pre-school teacher. That is not becoming of an Akashi, Tetsuya, nor does it fit into the curriculum offered by the school of your choice.”

Tetsuya was genuinely surprised his father researched the school he chose, but then again, he supposed his father saw this transaction as a four-year investment into something that would never reach its full potential. 

Tucking the pair of jeans perfectly into the corner of the box, Tetsuya turned, facing his father with a firm, unwavering expression. “Aniki is poised to take over your company, Father. He will make you proud.”

The words went unspoken, but they were said anyway. _I won’t._

“Seijuro will do,” his father clipped, as if he wanted to say more but decided against it. Instead, he inclined his head in what appeared to be a gesture of parting. “Good-bye, Tetsuya.”

“Good-bye, Father.” 

His father walked to his chambers and stayed there the rest of the night. By the time Tetsuya woke up the next morning, he had already left for the office. 

But the coldness Tetsuya felt from his father all but melted in the abundant warmth he felt in the presence of Kagami Shou. 

Kagami-san eventually placed Taiga on the ground and held his son at arm’s length, eyes dancing over Taiga’s larger form and chatting in English about how much he’d bulked up and how Japan had been good for him. 

Taiga broke eye contact then, reaching for Tetsuya. “Well, maybe it wasn’t Japan so much as who I met there.” He tugged Tetsuya forward, wrapping one of his arms about Tetsuya’s shoulders in a half-hug. “Dad, this is Akashi Tetsuya.”

The surname sounded weird even to Tetsuya, who had all but stopped using it by the time he came into high school. He still wrote it on documents and forms, but not one of the members of Seirin ever called him by it. And with Aniki’s name known throughout the basketball community as a person to first be feared and later admired, it only made sense for Tetsuya to continue to go by “Kuroko,” which served him well. 

But with Kagami-san’s eyes now wide and uncertain, Tetsuya wanted some of the awestruck power that came with the Akashi name. Instead, he let Kagami-san regain his bearings after the initial shock of learning just how short and slight Tetsuya was, despite the muscle he’d managed to gain the last year and a half. But when Taiga said he’d fallen for a basketball player, Tetsuya must not have been what Kagami-san imagined. 

Bowing in a proper Japanese greeting, Tetsuya tried to keep the rapid thumping of his heart from quickening his voice as he greeted in accented English, “Thank you so much for lending Seirin your son for the last three years, Kagami-san. I hope you’ll let me keep him a little longer.”

Only the chaotic noise of the terminal sounded between them as the seconds dragged on, and Tetsuya waited. For what, he wasn’t sure, but his proper upbringing taught him how to outlast any silence, even though his heart pounded and his thoughts twisted. Perhaps Kagami-san did not approve of him. Perhaps he’d introduced himself impolitely. Perhaps Kagami-san took offense to Taiga and his relationship and wanted nothing to do with him. 

But then a large hand, rivaling Taiga’s size, clamped down upon his head and ruffled his short locks. “Only if I get to borrow my future son-in-law here and there for a basketball game or non-alcoholic beverage.”

“Dad!” Taiga rebuked, but Tetsuya started, already swept into a similar monstrous embrace that had snagged Taiga earlier. What part of the situation Taiga disapproved of, Tetsuya wasn’t sure, but Kagami-san’s hug was one of the warmest embraces Tetsuya had even received. 

“Welcome to America, Tetsuya,” Kagami-san murmured, and Tetsuya finally understood the draw. 

*^*^*

There was, of course, an adjustment period, and Tetsuya went through a quasi-mourning period in the weeks following his leave of Japan. Many of the Americans spoke quicker than Taiga had the previous year, so he missed every other word, it seemed. Ordering a green tea took no fewer than three tries, and it never tasted right. L.A. itself was a dirty city where even the air carried some grit to it, and the food Taiga brought him tasted just awful. How Kagami could scarf down those cheeseburgers made Tetsuya’s stomach churn—except In-N-Out, which were quite delectable. Their milkshakes also tasted somewhat decent, and a vanilla latte was just plain heaven. 

Los Angeles fit Taiga. He seemed in his element, walking among people who were almost his size. Sure, a six-foot-four power forward still stood out in L.A., but dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, he appeared like everyone else rather than the towering figure who once dominated the streets of Tokyo. He spoke with ease and comfort, though Tetsuya heard a bit of an accent in his English, but that endeared Taiga to him more. It reminded Tetsuya that they had a history, that their story began before they came to America and would endure long past his original timeline. Where high school had been tainted by a countdown to what Tetsuya once-believed to be their inevitable breakup, collage was bright with the endless possibilities—Bruins basketball, their dorm room, a life together, on and off the court. 

And it was easy with Taiga, since they’d been living on and off together for the last three years, so UCLA was a paradise of sorts for Tetsuya. The collegiate buildings reminded him of Rakuzan’s elegant décor, majestic and formidable, and at times, he feared being lost in the throngs of people, especially at the Enormous Activities Fair and Sports Fair. But Taiga always made sure to keep an eye—and a hand—on him, and they joined Himuro—or “Tatsuya,” as Himuro-san asked Tetsuya to call him—for various events, dinners, and even the Bruin Bash. 

The warm weather with a cool breeze was a welcome change, and he took to running about the campus in the morning, sometimes joined by Taiga, always joined by Nigou, who seemed to flourish in his new environment as well. 

Classes occurred less frequently in college than in high school, allowing Tetsuya to get a job in the Powell Library to make some extra money his father refused to provide, seeing as he wasn’t going to a revered educational institution. But he welcomed the weekend for their streetball tournaments. Everyone gathered on an asphalt court halfway between USC and UCLA. Kise made sure to get time off from shooting to join, while Aniki and Mibuchi came down from San Francisco. Tatsuya joined them with Murasakibara, who was attending the California Baking School. They missed Midorima and Takao and even Kasamatsu and Ryou, who had become integrated into their high school clique, but Tetsuya made sure to keep in touch with them through Skype and email. 

On one such weekend, Aomine—“Daiki-kun,” as they all began to use their first names—flopped down next to Tetsuya and stole his water bottle. “Hey, Tetsu! Has Taiga eaten all the food in the dining halls yet?”

“Hey!” Taiga yelled while shooting. The ball thumped off the front of the rim. “Look who’s talking.” 

“All I’m saying is that if Taiga hogs all the cheeseburgers, then maybe you should hop on the 10 and come to USC. We have vanilla milkshakes.”

An abrupt choking noise sounded from the court, but Tetsuya continued to tie his shoelace in a measured pace. “What makes you an expert on vanilla milkshakes, Daiki-kun?” He just couldn’t drop the honorifics. “Your favorite flavor is chocolate.”

“Are you courting references, Tetsu-chan?” Reo cooed. “Because Stanford’s are quite delectable.”

Tatsuya elbowed Reo in the gut but only hard enough to gain a laugh. “It’s not polite to poach another team’s players.”

“He’s not yours yet, so we still have a shot at getting Tetsu.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me that I’m still without a team, Daiki-kun,” Tetsuya replied in a sharp rebuke. “For a moment, I was trying to have fun with my friends rather than ponder my uncertain future on the court.”

Daiki was up in a shot after Tetsuya, snatching the back of Tetsuya’s sweatshirt. “Tetsu, you know that’s not what I—” He stopped short before letting out a frustrated sigh. “I miss playing with you, all right? And I thought, maybe…I don’t know…we could play again…if UCLA isn’t treating you right.”

“But Taiga-kun is.”

“I know that, dumbass, or I’d kick his ass,” Daiki affirmed, and no one on the court doubted the conviction in his words, even Taiga. “But UCLA already passed on you once, and you deserve a team that will fight for you. I showed my coach a couple of your tapes, and he’s willing to make you an offer—if you’re willing to listen.”

Tetsuya’s heart swelled at the declaration, at the utter truth in Daiki’s words, and though he had no doubt he would enjoy playing with Daiki again, Daiki was one of the lights of his life but no longer _the_ light. 

Tetsuya cupped his hands below his waist and bowed formerly, his words sincere and heart-felt. “I am humbled by your offer, Daiki-kun, but I already made my choice.” When he straightened his back, a tiny smile reached his eyes. “I will stand on the same court as you and Taiga-kun, and we will battle you this winter.”

“Well, if you want to be on the losing side for the second straight year in a row, I guess I can’t help you.” Daiki’s lips curled into a devious smile as he spoke, but then a clipboard slapped him across the back of the head, twisting his face into a pain-filled grimace.

“Satsuki!”

“Dai-chan! Play nice, or I will burn your Mai-chan book!”

“Hey, all you Miracles, stop trying to steal my shadow!” Taiga growled as he swung an arm about Tetsuya’s neck and dragged him close. “Have you not read his shirt? Does it not say ‘Property of Kagami Taiga’?”

“I’m wearing your UCLA hoodie,” Tetsuya interjected. 

“Same difference.”

“Waah! But I want Kurokocchi on my team!” Ryouta cried as he threw his arms over Taiga’s and squeezed with all his might. “Don’t you want to play with me, Kurokocchi? I don’t have a team, either!”

“ _...can’t…breathe…_ ”

With laughter flittering through the group, they broke off into two teams and began their regular Saturday tournament, but the damage had been done. Despite winter rapidly approaching, Tetsuya hadn’t thought much about try-outs, America still a challenging new adventure filled with daily surprises and constant distractions. But that night, all those worrisome fears from high school resurfaced, and he couldn’t help but dread the upcoming try-outs. 

Though Taiga and he had separate beds, they slept in each other’s when their schedules synched, and when Taiga wandered in late after a study session with some fellow Mechanical Engineering majors, he took one glance toward Tetsuya’s bed and coaxed the slighter man into his. He wrapped his arms around Tetsuya’s middle and rested his face in the curve of Tetsuya’s neck. His warmth and steady presence calmed Tetsuya, though an undercurrent of uneasiness still slithered through his gut. 

“Daiki is an asshole,” Taiga whispered, already half asleep. 

“He’s my best friend.”

“Doesn’t stop him from being an asshole.”

“Or being right. I don’t have a team.”

“What do you call us?” Taiga mumbled, his fingers lacing with Tetsuya’s. 

Tetsuya blinked and glanced over his shoulder to see Taiga’s half-lidded but sparkling eyes. 

“You and me against the world.” Taiga pressed a tender kiss Tetsuya’s temple and settled against the pillow again. “Nothing can stop us—or our basketball.”

The utter conviction in Taiga’s voice eased Tetsuya into a comforting slumber. 

*^*^*

The Pauley Pavilion reminded Tetsuya of the Winter Cup arena. The vastness of the area, intimidating and awesome, urged him to duck his head in respect for such a storied and hollowed place. Despite standing upon the national stage for the last five years in Japan, winning more than a handful of championships, Tetsuya still felt humbled by the history, the talent, and his place inside the basketball world. Would he ascend like his brother, Daiki, and Taiga, or perhaps this was too far out of his short reach? 

Taiga ruffled his hair as they walked out of the tunnel and onto the court. Tetsuya took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking across the expanse of shimmering wood and paint. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the cheers from the stands for Seirin, for him and the team when they played against Daiki that last national championship game, and he remembered Kiyoshi’s words from three years ago. 

“For living creatures, victory is life, and defeat means death.”

Seirin lost their last match, but Tetsuya’s basketball wouldn’t die like that. His and Taiga’s story wouldn’t end in Japan, and he’d write the next chapter here, on this court. 

“Ready?” Taiga asked as the players began to gather, bouncing balls and breaking off into fractions. He lifted up his fist. 

Tetsuya returned the pump, no longer worried, no longer scared of the outcome, and determined to make it in his favor. “Yes.”

A ball flew at them at a surprisingly powerful speed, and Taiga caught it right before it would have smacked his head. Tatsuya laughed, dressed in shorts and a UCLA tank, and jogged to join them as Tetsuya wondered if this was how _his_ brother felt all the time—confident, self-assured, ready to win any battle he may face and prepared to do so. It was an unnervingly comforting. 

The head coach blew the whistle, drawing the players from around the court to him. There were about thirty in all, half of them already part of the team with another half hoping to walk-on. All of them were taller than Tetsuya by at least a head. 

“All right! It comes down to this,” Coach began without preamble, his voice loud and growling like a bear, perhaps poetically so. “No basketball team in the NCAA has won more championships than ours. Every year, UCLA strives to be in that final spot on the bracket, and we only take players who will get us there.”

His eyes stopped directly on Tetsuya, narrowing with disdain as if offended just by his size alone, but Tetsuya grew up with his constant disapproving father and his at-times-domineering brother. He could handle one six-foot-five coach who thought himself to be a true bruin. 

As if noticing his unwavering resolve, the coach moved on with an irritated expression that said, “Your funeral.”

“The NCAA allows us to recruit up to thirteen players but dress fifteen. Though I can take any number of players for a practice squad, I don’t. If you can’t help us in a game, you can’t help us in practice. Sometimes, I don’t even fill those two spots. You want one of them, you’re going to fight for it. You’re going to have impress me. You have three hours to do so, staring now.” He blew his whistle again. “Full-court lay-ups. Move it!”

The coach never even introduced himself, like the untested players didn’t deserve that respect. Taiga had dinner one of his first nights in the L.A. with the coach and spoke highly of the man, though Taiga was one of the few they’d recruited with a full scholarship. The man no doubt wanted to impress Taiga perhaps as much as Taiga wanted to impress him. 

Tetsuya didn’t want to impress the coach. He wanted to blow him away. 

But that didn’t happen. 

A five-foot-nine player on the court, even during simple drills, was a nuisance, one other players wanted to squash as quickly as possible. One of the largest players with a crew cut and a nasty sneer thought it would be funny to come up behind Tetsuya while he was going for his second lay-up. Tetsuya noticed him a second too late, and though he would have passed in a normal game to the trailer, he had no such luck in the simple drill. The block was swift, loud, and damning when the ball reverberated against the wooden floor. 

A few of the coaches watching in the center of the court chuckled and muffled about the hazard of shorter players. 

Tetsuya let out a short hum and glanced up at the player—a senior, James Thompson. He was the team’s current ace—Taiga would no doubt take that title this year—and a center with more than a foot on Tetsuya’s smaller build. 

“I wonder if I could stomp you out of existence,” he muttered when they restarted the drill.

“I’d rather you didn’t try,” Tetsuya deadpanned with a soft huff. “You might sprain your ego when you fail.”

The center let out surprised grunt but didn’t retort or attempt to block Tetsuya’s third lay-up. 

The three-man weave was just as problematic as many of these prep school players were used to passing and dribbling to taller players and passed the ball right over his head. Once or twice, Tetsuya managed to grab the ball from the air, but he landed so awkwardly that his passes to the upcoming player’s hands were not as smooth as needed for this level of basketball.

He refused to look at Taiga or Tatsuya but could feel their hard, troubled eyes watching him with an abundance of remorse. Playing with a shorter player did require adjustments, but so did playing with new teammates. Thompson and some of the other un-recruited rookies were doing their jobs to make him look bad, and unfortunately, it was working. 

Fortunately—at least to Tetsuya—the guards and forwards/centers broke off then to do individual drills like the Mikan and Backboard Taps, and for Tetsuya and the guards, Shooting Drill 10 and 2-Ball Pass/2-Man Shot. Tatsuya went first to show the newbies how it was done, sinking all his shots in the Drill 10 without losing form. Then, without waiting for direction from the coaches, he passed the ball to Tetsuya, like he was a member of the veterans. 

(Some of the veteran made some noise and low grumbles but didn’t complain. Tatsuya was, after all, the team’s star shooting guard.)

Unfortunately, Shooting Drill 10 required that one receives passes, and though he’d mastered the drill at Seirin, some of the players still failed to send the ball straight to him. 

Tatsuya slapped him on the back as he finished his gauntlet and whispered in Japanese, “You know this isn’t where you belong.”

Tetsuya glanced up at him, confusion and hurt and so many other useless emotions swirling inside his gut until he saw the challenging smirk upon Tatsuya’s lips. 

“Individual drills like these are really where position players shine,” he continued, ruffling Tetsuya’s hair this time. “Those who live in the shadows have difficulty, but don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find some shade soon.”

Tetsuya allowed a tiny, appreciative smile to grace his features, and now Tatsuya seemed uncomfortable, caught off guard by the genuine emotion Tetsuya afforded him. That cold demeanor Tatsuya projected to the rest of the team thawed, and he slapped the back of Tetsuya’s head to hide his own growing grin. 

The team’s senior point guard retired the previous year, so the bench player—Gabe Mitchell—started the next drill, the 2-Ball Pass/2-Man Shot. He dribbled with two hands, then delivered a no-look pass to the shooting guard before going in for a lay-up. A few of the freshmen missed the pass, let alone the left-handed lay-up. Tetsuya looked to Tatsuya, who first sent him a questioning gaze before suddenly nodding. When it was Tetsuya’s turn, he dribbled at full speed with both balls and without breaking stride, effortlessly passed simultaneously, one to Tatsuya and one to—James Thompson. Great, the centers and forwards were now joining their drills. 

But Tetsuya had spent the last few months going over tapes of UCLA’s games from the previous season, studying the players, their best moves and their personal tendencies, and despite the difference in rhythm, he hit both Tatsuya and James in their sweet spots.

James immediately noticed, eyes widened at the perfect set-up, and whatever callous remark he opened his mouth to make, he swallowed and shot a perfect swish, following Tatsuya’s basket. 

The awed silence swept across the gym, and when the balls dropped from the basket and thumped against the floor, it caused everyone but Tetsuya and Taiga to flinch. 

A sharp whistle drew them all to the center of the gym. “All right, rookies. Let’s see what you’ve got. Suicides, now!”

The next half an hour of practice pushed Tetsuya to his limits, with suicides, lane agility drills, baseline cut backs, medicine ball passes and slams, lateral box jumps, and more. The practices reminded him of the sessions right after he joined Teikou, where he collapsed in the middle of a stride and emptied his entire stomach, but here he pushed through, refusing to give into his body’s demands and fighting for his place on the team. 

Knotting his fingers behind his head and sucking in deep, drawing breaths, Tetsuya watched as Tatsuya and even Taiga gasped for breath after one set of drills before the coach blew the whistle and sent them running again. 

Little by little, his lithe body failed him, and his times slowed. He lagged behind the rest of the pack, despite all the conditioning Coach and Aniki put him through, and by the end, Tetsuya moved completely on auto-pilot, simply listening and obeying more than actually functioning. 

When the coach finally blew the whistle for a five-minute recovery session, Tetsuya was out the arena doors in an instant, finally getting rid of whatever was still left in his stomach after the massive carb breakfast he and Taiga devoured hours earlier. The energy wasn’t enough. The practices and the workouts and conditioning and the trips to Rakuzan and Kaijo and even Shutoku weren’t enough. 

He was giving it his all, and it just wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, he realized now. It was foolish of him to think he could play on the same court with Taiga forever, but he would see this through. He only had an hour and a half left of practice, perhaps in his career, and if he was lucky, a meteor would smash into the earth and render this whole situation moot. 

He stopped in mid-splash of his face, the cool water feeling fresh and soothing upon his heated skin. No, he was looking at this all wrong. He wouldn’t survive the next hour and a half. He would play it as if it was his last hour and half of practice. If this was it for his career, he was going to enjoy it, playing side-by-side with Taiga and Tatsuya. 

When he walked out of the bathroom with only thirty seconds left of recovery, he started at the sight of the head coach leaning against the hallway wall, arms and legs crossed as he scrutinized Tetsuya. 

“Why don’t you just quit?”

Tetsuya blinked, and the answer came without any thought to it. “There is no fun in that.”

“You’re not going to make the team. Just because you know Kagami and Himuro doesn’t mean I’m going to give you a place on the bench.”

“I don’t want to be _given_ a place on it. I will earn it.”

“You may have surprised Thompson with that pass, but I haven’t seen anything that shows me you’re on this level.”

Tetsuya nodded. It was true. “You will.” When the coach just blinked, Tetsuya allowed a bit of Daiki’s smirk to find his face. “I am a shadow, and I will make your lights stronger.”

“That’s what Taiga told me when we first recruited him.” The coach pushed away from the wall and glared down at Tetsuya, his larger figure menacing. “What does that even mean?”

A whistle blew inside the gym, and Tetsuya led the coach back out onto the court, offering a challenging grin. “You will see.”

“I keep hearing that. Show me already, kid.”

Tetsuya simply nodded and jogged to join the players on the court. Like most practices, this one would use the second half for scrimmaging. With the number of players on the court, they broke off into six teams, and the coaches made sure to put the recruited and veteran players on two teams. Then, they divided the rest onto the other four teams and handed out practice bibs. 

Tetsuya was number ten and decided to ignore the irony. 

His team was the first to play, set against Taiga and Himuro’s, and Kuroko had to hide his own fond smile at the utterly devastated expression on Taiga’s face. Taiga looked like a saddened kitten who had been caught in the rain, hair and ears pulled down, dark eyes drooping. He’d expected to help showcase Tetsuya’s talent on the court, not destroy their chances of ever playing together again. 

But while Tetsuya may have been zero for 1,397 against Taiga when playing one-on-one, basketball was a team sport. So he pulled on the bib and cocked a challenging grin at Taiga as he approached the center of the court. 

“I will block one of Taiga-kun’s baskets this game.”

A fine line formed between Taiga’s ridiculous eyebrows before his face smoothed out. “You never give up, do you? Even against the impossible.”

“Is it impossible? Or are others just not trying hard enough?”

That brought a tiny smile to Taiga’s lips. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“You’re definitely _not_ going to block one of my shots.”

Now it was Tetsuya’s turn to smile as he went to take his place on the back court. “Taiga-kun is obviously in denial.”

“Hey! Who are calling in denial? You’re a five-foot-nine basketball player!”

“Who conquered Japan’s best basketball teams.”

“With my help!”

“Taiga-kun is very loud this morning—and conceited, especially since we lost the last game we played.”

“But we’re done losing,” Taiga growled and went to his designated spot. “Right?”

“I am. I think you have one more game to lose.”

Taiga blinked again, then laughed, before bending his legs and putting a forearm on his rookie opponent. The coach blew his whistle and threw the ball into the air, starting the first practice match. 

Thompson, also on Taiga and Tatsuya’s team, snapped the ball from the tall but not-quite-filled-out freshman rookie, and quickly passed it toward Mitchell. The ball never made it to the veteran point guard’s hands as Tetsuya deflected it into a smooth bounce and was off in a shot. 

“What the—?” Mitchell wondered behind him, instead of moving. 

The freshmen were on the move, especially one of the taller ones. The moment he reached the top of the paint, Tetsuya matched his speed, getting him the ball when he stepped on the second hashtag. In a perfect rhythm-ed play, akin to Seijuro’s style, the freshman went up for a lay-up and made the first two points of the match. 

Tetsuya then called for the team to get back on defense and matched their respective players as Mitchell brought the ball up. Tetsuya deliberately slowed his stride, getting down in a defensive position and shuffling to lead the point guard to the left, which was obviously his non-dominant hand. When Mitchell tried to switch to his right, Tetsuya attacked, swiping the ball and heading back down toward the hoop. He slowed his stride then, crossing over and keeping above the three-point line as the players filed in for the play. 

He widened his vision, using Takao’s hawk eyes to keep track of everyone on the court, and then made his play—a fake into a cross-over to get around Mitchell. Driving directly into the paint, he saw one of his players head outwards to the three-point line while another dove for the basket. Taiga was there, already shutting down the player under the hoop, but that worked out in his favor. Tetsuya made the player’s eyes for a fraction of a second, telling him to ready for a shot, and then delivered the ball with a bounce-pass into the shooter’s hand. 

The shot hit nothing but net. 

The opposite team fired back, going full-speed on the next play for a lane-up from Taiga. Tatsuya hit a three-pointer a play later when one of the rookies lost the ball for a quick turnover at half-court, and then Thompson began to rule the paint for rebounds with his incredible height. 

But Tetsuya managed his team well, sometimes taking possession of the ball and with minor eye contact and quick head nods, directed his players where he wanted them. His level head and cool demeanor ruled the game like Seijuro governed court when at Rakuzan. Tetsuya forced Mitchell and the UCLA starters to switch gears. He forced them to slow their game or speed up depending on his attacks, and once, when Mitchell tried to pass over Tetsuya’s head, he caught Mitchell off guard, springing up to catch the ball and drive it down the length of the court for a lay-up. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Thompson murmured. 

Tetsuya shrugged as he bent down to position again. “His legs muscles tensed, signaling that he was going to jump. I’ve been crouching down half the game, getting ready for when he decided to use my size against me.” He glanced back over his shoulder with a quiet smile. “It’s shogi.” 

“What?”

“Don’t ask,” Taiga laughed, cutting across the paint to get open. “You’ll find out the first game versus Stanford.”

“Well, aren’t you a sneaky little bastard?” Mitchell huffed as he approached in a sedate pace, bouncing the ball in an easy but guarded dribble. 

“So I’ve been told. I am an Aquarius, after all.”

“What does that have to do—never mind.” Mitchell shook his head. “I’m not going to give up my spot on the beach so easily.”

“I don’t want your spot,” Tetsuya replied and deliberately left a pathway to the hoop open. “I want to earn my own.”

“You’re not going to do this way, rookie!” And Mitchell broke past. 

Eagle spear! 

Izuki’s training paid off as Tetsuya unhitched the ball. Unfortunately, none of his defenders were there to catch it. A clerical error. A damning error. He shouldn’t have tried to show off. He shouldn’t have tried to impress. It was his fault, and he would pay for that mistake. 

Except the ball went to Taiga in the paint, his defender only a second late on the attack, jumping upward to stop the shot. The swift action forced Taiga to put the ball to the floor to get around before picking it up again to shoot. 

But he made the mistake of bringing the ball down to Tetsuya’s height, and Tetsuya slapped downwards, freeing the ball from Taiga’s large hands. 

The coach blew the whistle then, ending the first practice game. Tetsuya’s team lost thirty to twenty. 

Taiga threw a sweaty arm around Tetsuya’s shoulders as they started off the court and two fresh teams came on. His body still huffed against Tetsuya’s, while Tetsuya’s recovered as well, the violent battle a test of both their mental and physical limits. 

“Technically,” Taiga began, falling to the bench and throwing Tetsuya a towel without looking, “that wasn’t a block. It was a steal.”

Tetsuya caught it without a glance as well, choosing to stand despite his tingling legs, and watched as the new groups began their gauntlet. “Technically, Taiga-kun was in shooting form.”

“But the shot must be traveling upwards to be a block, and it hadn’t even left my hand yet.”

“Perhaps Tatsuya-san will be Taiga-kun’s shadow when I refuse.”

Next to Taiga, Tatsuya laughed softly as he wiped the dripping sweat from his flushed face. “No, thank you, Tetsu. You claimed him as your light. No take-backs.”

“What are we? Five?” snorted Taiga before he squirted a mouthful of water at Tetsuya, who managed to dodge, and then Tatsuya, who didn’t. 

The practice games continued onwards, teams switching in and out at various times and for different periods. It seemed once the coaches made their decisions, they ended the game and began a new one. Every so often, coaches called over recruited and veteran players to discuss the new walk-ons, and as the last five minutes of practices began, the coaches blew the whistle. 

“All right! One last game. On Thompson’s team, I want to see Kagami, Himuro, Sanderson, and Number Ten from the bench. On Mitchell’s team, let’s have—”

Tetsuya blinked from the bench and slowly pulled the towel off his sodden hair. Thankfully, Taiga was at his side, tugging him up when his body refused to compute. Thompson glared down at him with a blatant sneer that reminded Tetsuya of Daiki before he lost that first game of the Winter Cup, but there was something else in his eyes. 

Respect. 

“You are one tough little bug to stomp, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got left in the tank now.”

Perhaps it was sharing the same side of the court as his light. Perhaps it was the hope that he’d been missing from the coaches almost two years ago when he first approached UCLA. Perhaps it was all the training from his friends, his brother, his surrogate family at Seirin and the Miracles, but Tetsuya ruled the court when he joined the UCLA team for the last practice match. 

He didn’t dominate like his brother or score the majority of points like Taiga, or even shoot demoralizing three-pointers like Midorima. Tetsuya set the game pace, bringing the ball up and moving it among the players to his own rhythm. He went beyond finding their tendencies, knowing where to put the ball and when. Instead, he played his role of a shadow effectively, elevating their play by putting the ball where they played best and making sure the defense responded to him. On defense, he slowed his own moves and coaxed Mitchell where he wanted him before springing into a trap with Tatsuya. Shorter than Mitchell, Tetsuya took advantage, swiping the ball whenever Mitchell brought it below his shoulders. Then, Tatsuya and he took off, challenging the opposing team to catch them. Tetsuya fed the trailing Thompson, who dunked the ball with a strength not even Taiga possessed. 

The game was short but brutal, the players of UCLA battling one another without remorse. Tetsuya reacted in kind, but he didn’t attack like perhaps Daiki or even Atsushi would. Instead, he molded the players into one unit, one team, and while he’d played against Tatsuya before, Tetsuya now battled with him. Where Thompson once wanted to tear him down, he now passed to Tetsuya when he grabbed a rebound, and when Taiga went up for the last point of the game, Tetsuya’s pass met him effortlessly at the net. 

When the whistle sounded, Tetsuya collapsed to his knees at the three point line, gasping in shallow breaths that shuttered his slender body. He’d given it his all; he had no regrets. If the coaches decided it wasn’t enough, then he’d accept it, but at least he’d been able to stand upon the same court with Taiga one last time. 

A towel flopped over his head before a strong arm wrapped around his waist and lugged him against an uncomfortably hot torso. “One day, you’ll be able to stand after a match.”

“Taiga-kun believes in miracles,” Tetsuya huffed, still fighting to catch his breath.

Taiga’s snort jerked his body as he situated Tetsuya’s arm around his neck. “I have to. I live with their Phantom Sixth Man.”

Tetsuya swallowed then, always humbled when he was mentioned as one of the Teikou’s miracles. His friends were all prodigies in their own right with unmatched skills and unbeatable moves, and Tetsuya always had to fight for a place at their side. When he voiced his uncertainty once during a lunch with Takao, the point guard remained silent for a long moment before humming with thought. 

“But isn’t that what makes you most worthy? They all were born that talent. You had to work to find yours.”

Like Takao, who stayed after team practice to work on his individual skills, or Tatsuya who would never have the talent Taiga possessed but worked just as hard to elevate his play. Or even Reo, one of the Uncrowned Kings, who fought to create his own shot to battle the Miracles. 

But working harder didn’t always equate to success, so as the coaches convened at the edge of the court, muttering amongst themselves, Tetsuya held his breath and braced for the inexorable truth. 

When the head coach approached, his voice echoed across the suddenly silent arena. “Veteran and recruited players, we’re having a team meeting directly after this. Hit the showers and meet us in the team room in ten. Everyone who tried out, thank you for your time. We will be making our decisions over the next few days.”

Tetsuya immediately felt the cold dread of rejection creeping into his stomach, and his heart shattered. The unbearably weight of truth crushed his usually impassive expression, and he was suddenly grateful to the towel over his head, hiding the stubborn tears that stained his cheeks. 

That was the subtle brush off, which was more than he could hope for. At least the coach hadn’t told him to give up a second time. 

“Tetsu…” Taiga choked, but before Tetsuya could muster any response—to his credit, he was fairly confident he could have kept from losing it completely until after he made it off the court—the coach’s firm voice sounded directly over his shoulder. 

“Tetsuya Akashi.” 

Tetsuya pivoted, almost losing his balance again, but he managed to catch himself at the very last moment. The coach’s expression was still iced over with the firmness of an authority figure combined with the intense edge of a battle strategist, but there was something new in his gaze, appreciative, perhaps even astonished. It was enough for Tetsuya to begin collecting the pieces of his broken heart. 

“Dion Johnson,” Coach greeted, putting out a hand. Tetsuya was too shocked to respond because of course he knew the coach’s name, having studied the team thoroughly, and he forwent American social conventions to present the coach with a deep bow. 

After a pregnant pause, the man repeated the gesture with a jerk of hesitation. “I’m…intrigued. Stick around for a little while, maybe the next four years or so.” 

“H-Hai. Arigato, Kantoku.”

“Uh…”

“He says, ‘Yes, thank you, Coach,’” Taiga slipped in for Tetsuya, still at his side. 

“Riiight. You might want to speak English on the court, Aksahi. Trash talk in Japanese won’t help you,” Coach offered before patting Tetsuya on the shoulder and heading toward the team room. 

Tetsuya didn’t let out a silent scream like he did when he made the team at Teikou. He didn’t let out a wild, uncontainable shriek like when he won the Winter Cup that first year. Instead, he swung toward Taiga whose blotchy red face was shimmering with fresh tears—and promptly fell over. 

The last thing he heard before passing out was Taiga and Tatsuya’s tandem cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_  
>  “Kagami,” called the director operations as he placed the orders, “number ten I presume?”
> 
> “Yes, sir!” Taiga responded with a cheerful smile. 
> 
> The beginning of a smile crinkled Tetsuya’s eyes. It had been more than a month since they joined the team, but the tangible proof of their positions was finally coming—their uniforms. Once they had them, there would be no more doubts. They would both be full-fledged members of the UCLA Bruins. 
> 
> “Akashi,” the man asked, “number eleven is free as well. Would you like that?”
> 
> Eleven meant so many things to him, especially after the Generation of Miracles beat Meikou 111 to 11. But now that he had his friends back, including Ogiwara, the number just seemed like a reminder of bad times. But what else could he— 
> 
> “Four,” Taiga interjected.
> 
> Tetsuya glanced up with soft reproach. “Taiga-kun, the director was asking me.”
> 
> “And you weren’t answering.” Taiga nodded toward the director. “He’ll take number four.”
> 
> The director raised a questioning eyebrow at Tetsuya, who kept his face completely blank before nodding his approval. Inside, however, his heart thumped a frantic staccato as he thought of the implications of Taiga’s choice. 
> 
> He could order Taiga to always play on the “skins” team.


	4. You’re Shining, Tetsuya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Schedules for NCAA basketball teams are released months in advance, but let’s pretend they’re not.

“This just sucks,” Daiki snarled in Japanese, just because he could during their Saturday streetball tournaments. “Who the hell made these schedules? I swear they did this on purpose.”

“The Director of Operations is in charge of arranging games, Daiki,” Seijuro replied with a crisp American accent as he finished tying his sneaker and stood. “And I highly doubt they had us in mind when arranging games.”

“But we won’t meet until the Pac-12 Tournament next _March_.”

Tetsuya agreed with Daiki’s sentiment, even though he refrained from voicing his displeasure as loudly. When schedules were released and USC was not listed as one of UCLA’s opponents this season, he’d been distraught as well. He craved to battle Daiki again since the Winter Cup tournament loss almost a year ago, but at least UCLA would meet up with Stanford in December. USC’s schedule, however, missed both Stanford and UCLA.

Despite his own disappointment, Tetsuya couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease Daiki as he bounced the ball between his legs with trained precision, mindful of Nigou who danced about him. “Aniki, I thought you’d learned by now that the world revolves around Daiki-kun.”

Coming onto the court, Taiga made a swipe for the ball, but Tetsuya kept it out of his reach with a quick pass to Nigou. “Think we should tell him?”

“His head might implode, Taiga-kun. Don’t be so careless.”

“Hey! You were the one who brought the schedule.”

“I came to the States to play you guys.” Daiki scowled, coming up behind Nigou in a blur of motion and stealing the ball for a quick dunk. “If I wanted to play with a bunch of losers, I would’ve stayed in Japan.”

Despite the growling edge to Daiki’s voice, Tetsuya heard the underlying compliment, which was perhaps the greatest one Daiki would ever give, even if Daiki didn’t realize it himself.

Taiga, of course, captured a different point. “Are you calling Shintarou and Kazunari ‘a bunch of losers’?”

“Yes! No! ” Daiki seemed genuinely confused for a moment, then dropped his hand from where he’d been scratching his neck. “Well, yeah, actually. Only losers give up basketball for _medical arts_.”

“Ball isn’t life for everyone, Daiki-kun,” Tetsuya chastised.

“Really, Tetsu? _You_ want to go there?” Daiki’s eyebrow rose in a challenge, and considering Tetsuya spent the last two years doing nothing but trying to play with Taiga after high school and even traversed an ocean to make it so, he chose _not_ to go there.

Tatsuya received the ball from Reo, throwing it up for a quick shot. “Don’t you like your team?”

_Swish._

“I said they were a bunch of losers, didn’t I?” Daiki’s scowl darkened, but Satsuki’s unusually soft voice flittered the court across the bench. “It’s all my fault.”

The tenderness in her voice drew Tetsuya to her side, and he wanted nothing more than to soothe her distress. “I’m sure that isn’t true, Satsuki-chan.”

“That’s what I said.” Daiki’s voice balanced fierce with frustrated. “They’re all assholes.”

Satsuki hid her teary face in her hands. “I met Dai-chan after practice one day, and they—”

“—made some comments they shouldn’t have,” Daiki snapped, but when he retreated to the bench, he sunk down next to her and smacked his shoulder against hers. “They’re assholes, and I took care of it, didn’t I? They won’t bother you again.”

“But Dai-chan! You could have been suspended.”

“They deserved what they got for saying that shit about you.” The finality in his voice showed no remorse for his actions. “And you know college ball isn’t my aim, Satsuki. I’m going to become an American citizen and jump ship to the NBA next year like Taiga.”

Taiga jerked in middle shot; his ball thunked against the backboard before it fell to the asphalt and bounced away. “Say what now?”

Reo’s wicked laughter tinkled across the court as he picked up the ball and tossed it to Tatsuya. “Who says America wants you?”

“Hmm… Mine-chin, you’ll have to pass a test.” Atsushi blocked Tatsuya’s shot without even moving, an opened bag of potato chips in his opposite hand. “When was the last time you did that?”

“Shut up, Atsushi! I have a private tutor paid for by the team, so I pass all my tests.”

“With or without Satsuki’s help?” Tatsuya added.

“I hate you all. Why do I even hang with you people?”

As the banter continued, Tetsuya spied Taiga as he recovered from his aborted shot and Daiki’s flippant remark. Sick apprehension slithered into his gut, sending his heart into a haphazard rhythm. Taiga only spoke of the NBA as aspirations for a potential post-college future. He sought a mechanical engineering degree and four years of NCAA tournaments with Tetsuya, but Taiga was a dual citizen. He would be eligible for the draft next year, and if the NBA was his ultimate goal, why would he stay at UCLA? What could Tetsuya possibly offer him for such a sacrifice?

“Hey.”

Testuya found himself jolted from his wandering thoughts by Taiga, who at some time came to stand before him. “That’s not my plan, okay?” His large fingers slid into Tetsuya’s hair, palming his head as he would a ball, but the imitate touch soothed Tetsuya’s raw nerves. “You and me against the world, right? And we’re just getting started.”

Tetsuya’s lips formed a reassuring smile he didn’t quite feel. “Hai.”

“You all waited for me!” Kise’s presence blared almost as loudly as his mouth, and despite his rather inconspicuous attire of a zip-up hoodie and shorts, girls and reporters gathered about metal fence enclosing the streetball court, ready to watch a battle against the best players on the West Coast.

*^*^*

UCLA practices were brutal. The first month was nothing but weight-training with the physical trainers devising a plan-of-action for Tetsuya much like Riko had, and he followed it religiously, eating the right meals to gain even more muscle. Once they hit the court, Tetsuya saw even more improvement, keeping up with the team and battling alongside Taiga and Tatsuya on suicides, drills, and plays. About two weeks into normal practices, Gabe Mitchell—a redshirt junior point guard—came up to him, and Tetsuya mentally braced himself for the scathing remark or callous challenge that was to follow.

Instead, Mitchell threw him the ball with a tad bit more force than necessary. “Kuroko. The others call you that, right? For the person who works behind the scenes.”

Tetsuya blinked, off-guard. “You know Japanese.”

“I can look up stuff, rookie,” Mitchell admonished. “You play in the shadows. That may work on some teams but not this one. Time to step into the light.”

“That’s not my basketball,” Tetsuya defended. If UCLA was going to be another Teikou, Tetsuya would rather ride the bench for his four years.

But Mitchell shook his head. “It is now. In America, you can’t afford to just be a playmaker. You need to be able to attack. You need to be able score. You need to be able to put up numbers that rank with the others. Not always, but in a game where James or Tatsuya can’t get the ball into the net ‘cause of their match-ups, you’ll have to.”

Tetsuya looked at the ball in his hands, the usually light weight now heavy. “I—I’ve never played that role before. I’ve always been in the shadows.”

“Then it’s time to come out.” Slapping the ball away from Tetsuya, he drove to the net for two points. “I’m gonna teach you everything you need to know to play at this level, so get ready, rookie.”

The guy who all but wanted to keep Tetsuya on the bench was going to help him stay off it. “Why?” _What’s in it for you?_

The ball burned Tetsuya’s hands when he caught this time. “This is a team, y’know. Just because we all can shine doesn’t change that. So this is how I’m going to help our team—make you as bright as I can.”

Awestruck, Tetsuya fell into a deep bow of reverence, forgetting the American social norms. Down the court, Taiga snorted but continued his drills with the forwards, but he had been right, all those months ago when they were choosing their next step. UCLA was the perfect college for them.

“Thank you, senpai,” Tetsuya murmured, humbled.

“Geez, stand up straight, will you?” Mitchell said after a moment, irritated. “And none of that ‘senpai’ shit. Just Gabe, all right?”

“Yes, thank you, Gabe-san.”

“Ugh! How the hell does Taiga put up with you? Never mind!” he replied, cutting off Tetsuya. “I don’t want to know. Just give me the ball already and let’s start.”

Tetsuya didn’t understand the full implications of his discussion with Gabe or their subsequent practices until the team’s first official game. North Carolina was another major Division I school, the alma mater of His Airness himself, and UCLA was home. The chants of the crowd thundered against the locker room walls, but Tetsuya wasn’t worried. The team spent hours watching tapes of the UNC players, all of whom were veterans. So there wouldn’t be any surprises, plus he was excited to watch Taiga play from his designated place at the end of the bench where he’d help the assistants fill water bottles for the next two seasons or so.

All that changed when the coach turned toward the team, huddled about the white board getting ready for final strategy plans, and said, “All right. We’re going with Thompson, Kagami, Sanderson underneath and Himuro and Akashi up top. Thompson, remember to watch for their center’s…”

Tetsuya easily rebuffed American slang when hanging with any of his teammates, but as the hefty words echoed ominously in his heart, Tetsuya put up a single hand.

The coach stopped in mid-speech and motioned for him to speak, and Tetsuya finally gave into the temptation, “Kantoku…what say you now?”

Of course he screwed it up, and Taiga snickered, sitting at Tetsuya’s side. Mercilessly, Tetsuya took advantage of their placement, slamming his fingers into Taiga’s gut, which abruptly ended his boyfriend’s good nature.

“You heard me, Akashi,” Johnson snapped, too tense to soothe the untested nerves of a freshman player. “Mitchell tells me you’re excelling under his drills, and you’ve proven yourself in practice. And if you screw up, I’ll pull your ass out so fast, the entire arena will get whiplash.” He paused to turn back to the board but then glanced back at Tetsuya once more. “Are you going to screw up?”

Taiga’s intense stare forced the uncertain words through his mouth. “Not intentionally, sir.”

“Sit down and shut up before I change my mind, Akashi.” Coach rolled his eyes. “And stop stabbing Kagami. We need him at least until we get a twenty-point lead.”

When Coach dove back into the discussion, Taiga offered him a wincing smile, still cradling the side where Tetsuya had hit him. Tentatively, Tetsuya returned it.

While Tetsuya might have ready for the game, he wasn’t ready for the arena. As he jogged out of the locker room behind the veteran players, dressed in snap-up pants with a long-sleeved T-shirt over his uniform, the sheer insanity of the Bruins’ fans assaulted him with their deafening cheers, their sea of yellow, and their clawing hands, which hung down from the bleachers to snag the top of the team’s shirts as they passed. As he took to the court to start the warm-ups, he simply stopped at the edge of half court and took in the suffocating atmosphere. The Winter Cup arena had been loud and packed during the championship games with all 6,000 seats routinely filled, and though that crowd had been loud, it had never overwhelmed Tetsuya like the UCLA stands did now.

Next to him—always next to him—Taiga sucked in a sharp inhale before letting it trickle through his curled lips. He said nothing, however, and perhaps there was nothing to say. This was where their basketball had led them—to the college basketball scene at the Source and one of the most prestigious teams in the NCAA.

The shadow and light of Seirin now became…well, Tetsuya wasn’t sure what they were to UCLA yet, but they’d find out soon enough. Today was the first step.

Wordlessly, Taiga lifted up his fist. Tetsuya returned the bump.

*^*^*  
_Freshman superstars Taiga Kagami and Tetsuya Akashi of UCLA throw the ball around with ESPN._

 **ESPN: Ohayo.**  
**Kagami:** ‘Sup?  
**Akashi:** Kon'nichiwa.

 **ESPN: Did I say it wrong?**  
**Akashi:** Ohayo means “good morning.” Kon’nichiwa means “good afternoon.”  
**Kagami:** Don’t go correcting the interviewer, Baka.  
**Akashi:** He misspoke, Taiga-kun. It would rude for me not to explain to him the difference.  
**Kagami:** It’s rude to correct him. He was trying to be polite by addressing us in Japanese.  
**Akashi:** Is this another one of those American customs I do not understand?

 **ESPN: Uh…let’s move on. You have been called the UCLA’s Spark and Flame with Tetsuya beginning unexpected plays like spontaneous combustion and Taiga finishing them in a blaze of glory.**  
**Akashi:** Domo arigato.  
**Kagami:** Stop that!

 **ESPN: How did you two create this chemistry?**  
**Kagami:** Uh…Tetsu and I have been playing on the same team since our first year of high school, so it’s kinda evolved through the years.  
**Akashi:** Taiga-kun is so bright on the court, he attracts everyone’s attention.  
**Kagami:** Hey!  
**Akashi:** He’s hard to miss.

 **ESPN: Did you two always get along?  
** **Kagami:** Not really. Tetsu used to freak me out by popping out of nowhere, thanks to his weak presence. And I swear he used to do it just for shits and giggles.  
**Akashi:** I never do anything for shits, Taiga-kun.  
**Kagami:** You know what I mean. You got a kick out of it. Don’t tell me you didn’t. Oh, and you sucked at basketball when we met—other than passing—so I didn’t even understand why you played.  
**Akashi:** Thank you for telling me your true feelings. Could you possibly be not so harsh?  
**Kagami:** But then I saw you play and how you make plays, and then I learned your story with the Generation of Miracles. So I wanted to help. And I wanted to battle the strongest players in the country, which we did together.  
**Akashi:** Once I saw Taiga-kun at the events fair that first day of school—  
**Kagami:** You saw me there?  
**Akashi:** You are rather hard to miss. Anyway, I knew we would be partners.  
**Kagami:** Because I reminded you of Ahomine.  
**Akashi:** No. Because Taiga-kun was strong and brilliant, so I knew you would become the number one player in Japan. And I knew I could help you become that.  
**Kagami:** You called me brilliant. Most people call me stupid.  
**Akashi:** And that’s why I’m your partner.

 ** **ESPN: You two have caused quite a commotion in NCAA, taking a team that was 22-14 last year to 8-0 the first month of the season. What has attributed to your success?**  
** **Kagami:** Lots of practice.  
**Akashi:** And burgers.  
**Kagami:** I told you In-N-Out rocks.  
**Akashi:** Taiga-kun is a burger connoisseur.

 **ESPN: Tetsuya, UCLA’s next game will be against your brother, who plays point for Stanford and has gained the nickname “The Emperor” for the way he rules the court. How are you approaching the next game?**  
**Akashi:** [hums] Carefully.

 **ESPN: You are a man of many words, aren’t you?**  
**Akashi:** Hai.

 **ESPN: Multiple outlets—including entertainment magazines—report that you both take part in a weekly streetball contests with your teammate Tatsuya Himuro, Stanford’s Seijuro and Reo Mibuchi, USC’s Daiki Aomine, and even Hollywood’s newest heartthrob, Ryouta Kise.**  
**Kagami:** Yeah. So?

 **ESPN: You’ve been getting quite an audience. How do your coaches feel about you being seen with your team’s biggest rival, the new USC power forward?**  
**Kagami:** We’ve all been playing together for years. That’s not gonna change.

 ** **ESPN: So you’re all best friends?**  
** **Kagami:** Yeah. And on the court, I guess you can call us best rivals. But Tetsu’s known these guys since middle school. So they’re more like our brothers from another mother, y’know.  
**Akashi:** Thank you for telling America my life story, Taiga-kun.  
**Kagami:** Life story? It’s not like I told this guy your dad is head of Akashi Enterprises.

 ** **ESPN: Wait. Tetsuya, your father is the CEO of Akashi Enterprises? The same Akashi Enterprises that’s building a new headquarters tower in New York City?**  
** **Kagami:** Oops.  
**Akashi:** [speaks in Japanese]  
**Kagami:** [speaks in Japanese]

 ** **ESPN: Uh…excuse me?**  
**Akashi:** ** Sorry.

 ** **ESPN: Time to wrap this up. What game are you two looking forward to playing the most?**  
** **Kagami:** USC.  
**Akashi:** USC.

 ** **ESPN: UCLA’s old rivalry.**  
**Kagami:** ** And ours. We owe Daiki for the last Winter Cup championship, and we’re going to pay him back with interest.

 ** **ESPN: Tell us one thing about your partner that no one else knows.**  
** **Kagami:** I, uh, I think I already answered that.  
**Akashi:** Taiga-kun gets sick riding the Teacups at Disneyland.  
**Kagami:** Oi! Tetsu watches _Ouran Host Club_ as a guilty pleasure.  
**Akashi:** Taiga-kun is scared of my brother more than my father.  
**Kagami:** Dude, your brother attacked me with a pair of scissors once.

 **ESPN: I hope he doesn’t bring a pair to the next game.**  
**Kagami:** Nah. The scissors were Midorima’s good luck item of the day, so I think we’re safe.

**ESPN: Midorima? Y’know what, never mind.**

*^*^*

Games versus other Miracles were exhilarating as well as taxing, but playing his own brother always wore on Tetsuya. Seijuro battled both mentally and physically, and now that their positions paralleled, they went head-to-head in an “epic showdown,” as Taiga called it. Tetsuya called it “shogi,” and he absolutely loathed shogi. This time, he didn’t want to find out his brother’s trump card or see his “master plan.” This time, he attacked first.

The Emperor’s Ankle Break quickly became a highlight on Sportscenter, and having witnessed it for years in Japan, Tetsuya studied it over and over with the coaches until he learned how to combat it. Instead of moving his entire body with the first cross-over, Tetsuya pivoted his foot but in the opposite direction, so he could push off and cut off Seijuro when he made his fast break. Shocked by the sudden assault, Seijuro couldn’t combat Tetsuya’s wipe, and Tetsuya exploded down the court at the fantastic speed a wildfire spread. None of the forwards caught up in time, and neither did Seijuro.

Tetsuya took the ball in for the lay-up, but moving so fast, he over-ran the basket and slammed his back into the basket’s mat. As the ball fell into the hoop, UCLA took the lead for the first time in this game with .03 seconds left in the third quarter.

The crowd roared, so loudly that Tetsuya’s ear rang in sharp ecstasy, so when the cheer started low and up in the stands, it drowned in the celebration before it gained momentum.

“Tet-su. Tet-su. Tet-SU! TET-SU!”

The thirteen thousand fans broke out in the chant, screaming at the top of their lungs as the play stopped at the end of the quarter.

The sweat went cold upon Tetsuya’s skin as his body flushed numb, dumbfounded by the shock of the situation.

“Wha-What’s happening?” he asked his brother, wiping the uncomfortable dribble from his forehead with his sweatband.

Seijuro, despite huffing for air, smiled as brightly as a proud older brother ever could. “You’re shining, Tetsuya. Welcome to the light.”

Taiga came to wrap an arm about Tetsuya’s shoulders and draw him close, his undeniable warmth always fueling Tetsuya and lighting his way. When they approached the bench, his teammates ruffled his hair and slapped his back, and as one, they seem to soak up the cheers. The fans might have been chanting Tetsuya’s name, but the Bruins were only as good as they were because they were truly a team, as much as Seirin was.

Over the course of the first month of college ball, UCLA molded from five individual players to one single machine. Thompson made sure to always start the headcount with Tetsuya, so as not to forget him (after they left him in Arizona by accident following their first away game—Taiga had been asleep on the plane already and threw a fit once he woke up.) Sanderson, the team’s small forward, was a linguistics genius and worked to get the other players speaking some Japanese phrases. Tetsuya returned the personal training he received from Mitchell, helping the junior study and quizzing him on the plane when they traveled for away games. Tatsuya brought in experimental treats Atsushi made while practicing for his classes and bookended Tetsuya with Taiga during group interviews. And Taiga scouted their eating stations, making sure everyone had a seat before digging in himself.

Adjusting to the traveling and studying was incredibly easier than adjusting to the sudden limelight. Taiga took the brunt of it, rocketing to national fame with his insane meteor jumps. Interviewers already began asking questions about his inevitable jump to the NBA. Thompson and Tatsuya also took their fair share with the number of points they put up, but Tetsuya’s interviews always included Taiga, who obliged for Tetsuya to feel comfortable.

Never had Tetsuya received individual cheers like this before, and all his training culminated to this exact moment, thanks to someone who gave him the courage to step out of the shadows and burn with his own light.

Tetsuya sought out a player at the edge of the bench, dressed all in warm-ups, and Gabe found his gaze easily. The redshirt junior accepted his quiet, appreciative smile, and offered his own with a silent, “You’re welcome.”

Campus life changed for Tetsuya after that impossible win (103 to 100).

When he walked to classes, people noticed him, slapping him on the back and offering him well wishes for the next game. The barista he once caught flirting with Taiga—she’s even coaxed Taiga into teaching her how to write her name in hiragana—offered him a smile and a free drink. His professors who had missed him in the back of the room now called on him and listened to his quiet answers. And as the team won ten, eleven, and twelve games in a row, the attention only increased to the point where people started wearing his name on their back. Some even wore blue wigs to the games, and Tetsuya wasn’t sure how to feel other than overwhelmed—and grateful. Getting free vanilla lattes every day helped his bank account greatly.

However, success came at a cost. More and more fans packed the stadium, and even standing room was in demand. As Tetsuya looked into the crowd as the year progressed, he saw more than fans. He saw scouts from the NBA.

“They’d never come like this before,” Gabe told Tetsuya when he asked one day before tip-off. “They usually pop up at the end of the season to see Thompson. One or two at the most, but this?” He slapped Tetsuya on the back. “They’re here to watch Taiga and you.”

Tetsuya would have laughed if he had a sense of humor. Here? To see him? They were here for Taiga, no doubt. He was taking the NCAA by storm, and despite his desire to finish his college degree, scouts would make very convincing— and lucrative—offers to lure him to the NBA by the end of the season.

Then it happened about the twenty-five-game mark. Taiga had dominated the game, scoring almost thirty points with more than two-thirds of those coming from assists by Tetsuya. Though Tetsuya played, he enjoyed watching Taiga’s triumph the most, the pure smile of pleasure on his face from nothing more than the game. Tetsuya burned the picture in his mind to remember forever.

As he came out of the locker room—showered and back in warm-ups—Tetsuya stopped dead as Taiga spoke to a man in a three-piece suit, discussing aspects of the game with great enthusiasm. Tetsuya retreated to the locker room—it was a private moment for Taiga, who would tell him when ready—but he heard the finality of the conversation.

“You would be a great addition to the New York Knicks.”

This would be their final season together. Tetsuya ached with a pain he hadn’t felt as strongly since high school, and he sought his calendar. Only 176 days left before the draft.

The Bruins flew through the New Year and vaulted into the Pac-12 tournament 36-0, the first UCLA team to go undefeated since the 70’s. USC battled for second in the division, coming up 30-6, and Stanford came in third 27-9. All three received a bye the first week, but in the second week, Stanford fell to USC, though the battle was as hard-fought as Tetsuya had ever witnessed. And since UCLA took out Oregon with a surprisingly ease (101-68), Tetsuya and Taiga received their craved match-up.

After the opening announcements and “The Star-Spangled Banner,” Daiki met them on the court, a fresh smirk upon his face. “Finally you’ve made it. I’ve been waiting.”

Taiga’s voice was gruff. “Really? And here I thought it was the other way around.”

“Don’t worry, Daiki-kun,” Tetsuya assured in his usual light voice, which barely sounded over the blaring cheers of the fans. “We’ll make the game worth your wait.”

Daiki and Tetsuya always agreed when it came to basketball, even after all this time, which made the game all the more exciting. Tetsuya needed to think around Daiki, pull out any stops that remained after their march to the tournament, and when he received the ball right after the tip-off, he passed. Not with an Ignite Pass Kai. Not with a behind-the-back elbow knock. He just passed right to Tatsuya, who forwarded the ball onto Thompson. Daiki was caught too far up the court, allowing Taiga to score the first two points of the match.

“You weren’t joking,” Daiki grumbled.

Tetsuya fought to keep the smirk from his lips. “You know I don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Right. Is that the reason I received a box of condoms after I told you where I was going to college?”

“Protection is very important in intimate relationships, Daiki-kun. I was thinking of your well-being.”

“Tetsu, my mom opened the package! Do you have any idea the hell that rained down upon me?”

“Yes. You tweeted me about it. You even made a hashtag. #DieTetsuDie, I recall.”

Daiki laughed, and grinning, Tetsuya allowed Daiki to ruffle his hair before starting back on defense.

USC’s captain, a cruel player named Payne, slapped Daiki’s head when he passed, not in the way Imayoshi would have but in a brutal attack that was meant to hurt. “Hey, focus on the game, rookie! I told you, this isn’t one of your little Saturday tournaments. This is college ball.”

Tetsuya’s own mouth dropped open, but Taiga’s fury blew off him in waves as he passed Tetsuya to take on Daiki. They kept the verbal jabs to the minimal then, choosing to vent their anger through their plays. Tetsuya understood why Daiki kept quiet. He chose the most important battles to fight—for Satsuki, for his own well-being—as Payne fed Daiki the ball time and time again. Daiki also passed it about, not forgetting the lessons he learned in high school, but in order to make it to the NBA, Daiki needed Payne to support his plays. If the team shut him out now, he’d never be able to make the leap. He’d be stuck at USC for the next four years before heading back to Japan, his entire life’s goal crushed.

So Taiga and Tetsuya gave Daiki and USC a battle sure to impress any NBA scout, and Daiki met the challenge full-throttle. When Taiga combated him, he put all his skills to use, shooting those amazing formless shots and once, even throwing the ball up and over the back of the net. Unfortunately, that shot was illegal in America, but it elicited more than a few cheers from the crowd.

Perhaps it was the vicious attack on Daiki by his own teammate. Perhaps it was all his hopes and dreams on the line, his own struggles of wanting to be good enough to share the court with Taiga. Perhaps it was the fact that now, he was of the light. But in the second quarter, right when Payne went to score a lay-up, Tetsuya sunk into the Zone.

Being blocked by a five-foot-nine player embarrassed Payne, Tetsuya assumed, but like the Generation of Miracles, he needed to be taught how to respect his fellow player. In fact, Tetsuya refused to allow him another shot through the end of the half. Instead, Tetsuya—like Kiyoshi had done to him—showed Payne the limits of his abilities. He wasn’t of the light. Instead, Payne was banished to the lightest part of the shadows, able to see the greatness in both the light and shadow but never able to touch either.

“You all right there, kid?” Thompson flopped down next to him in the locker room during half-time. “You seem to be taking this game a little too personally.”

Tetsuya accepted the sliced oranges—he still couldn’t believe Americans shunned lemons—and spoke before eating. “They are a tough competitor. I’m just responding in kind.”

“You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve got something for Payne.”

“Tetsu wants to be a teacher.” Ruffling his hair, Taiga fell to the other side of Tetsuya and stole the oranges. “He’s just giving Payne a lesson.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tatsuya commented off to the side, elbows upon his thighs, jersey sticking to his skin from the sweat. “We played against USC last year. Payne doesn’t like to be cornered, and he lashes out like a wild animal when he is. Watch yourself, Tetsuya.”

Tetsuya nodded but wasn’t worried. After battling Hanamiya and Haizaki and even Imayoshi, Tetsuya could handle one overrated point guard on his last leg.

When they took to the court again for the second half, up by five, Tetsuya let out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding and settled into his position beside Payne. The first play into motion, Tetsuya deflected Payne’s throw, and being the pass specialist he was, the ball landed perfectly in Tatsuya’s hands. The team dashed down the court then at full-speed, not unlike the run-and-gun offense of Seirin, but he and Tatsuya took the lead, getting the ball where it needed to go.

Tetsuya heard Thompson massive stomps and Taiga smooth rhythm behind him, the two taking position as trailers, but he also heard the shallow gasps of Payne, who just couldn’t catch him. Even if he had, Tatsuya was set up for a three-pointer, but instead of taking the shot, he sent the ball to Tetsuya in a perfect bounce pass. With Payne unable to stop Tetsuya, this shot would force Payne to seek help from his teammates or even force the coaches to switch point guards. Either way, Payne’s tyranny was over.

Tetsuya would never remember exactly what happened, for in that moment, as he leapt on his left leg and pushed the ball up with his right hand, the sudden tug on the back of his jersey ripped him from his desire course. He slammed hard to the ground, his wrist taking the brunt of his weight, and he tumbled awkwardly in the first few rows of the courtside seats. The world sounded muffled, far away, like he was underwater, and the edges around his vision darkened until he only saw some lights and a flash of colors. A whistle sounded far away, and Daiki yelled—no, screeched was a better assessment. Then Taiga was there, face pale with worry, eyes round and trembling.

The world rushed back to overwhelm Tetsuya, offensively loud and undoubtedly painful, and he hissed, immediately clutching his throbbing wrist before Taiga helped him into a sitting position. Tears welled in his eyes, and then the medical trainer knelt before him, shouting words and questions Tetsuya couldn’t hear.

Thompsons, Sanderson, and Tatsuya shielded him from the crowd even as the wild fans still cheered for him to rise. Taiga held him close, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, securing Tetsuya against his chest. On the court, the referees pulled the USC team apart, attempting to stop Daiki from killing his own team captain.

As it was, Payne’s nose bled like a faucet, crimson painting his face a dark palate of misery.

_To Be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_  
>  Payne walked out the locker room, ice pack over his very bruised, very swollen nose, and stopped dead at the sight of a fairly tall blond man, who blocked his way. Though the man was only taller than Payne by a handful of inches, Payne felt an ominous bad vibe from him.
> 
> “Who are you?” he demanded.
> 
> “Your worst nightmare,” the blond hissed with a dangerous edge to his voice. “A celebrity with a rabid fanbase.”
> 
> Only then did Payne notice the women beginning to gather behind the blond, and he cowered. 
> 
> The blond narrowed his eyes and ordered, “Get him, ladies.”
> 
> The women pounced; Kise Ryouta never smiled, only watched with satisfied contentment as Payne was torn apart. 
> 
> “No one hurts Kurokocchi.”  
> \---  
> Sorry for the delay with this story. It's completely done up to the epilogue, but I'm writing another KnB story that is now at 90k. So I've putting all my energy into that in order to finish it, rather than editing this. However, I'm going to try to be better at updating this one, and I'm even hoping to upload Chapter Five this week. :) Thanks to those who are waiting/have waited.


	5. How to Lose a Guy in 1,401 Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the first few chapters of this story on Tumblr back last October - this is where the new stuff starts.

“There’s no good news here,” the team doctor announced with little preamble, glancing down at the results from the MRI and X-ray. “You didn’t break anything, but you have a small TFCC tear.”

Tetsuya already held his cell phone in his good hand, ready to call Midorima the moment he exited the examination room, but the doctor resituated his glasses on his nose—not unlike Midorima—and continued, “You’ll feel it no doubt. Pain, swelling. You’re going to be miserable for the next month or so.”

The words flew from Tetsuya’s mouth, “I want to play.”

“Now waitaminute—” Coach Johnson began, a hand upon Tetsuya’s shoulder, but Tetsuya looked at him with hard and unrelenting eyes. “We’ve been waiting all year for this tournament. I’m not sitting out now.”

“You should,” the doctor proclaimed, stern. “At the moment, conservative treatment would be the best option. Four weeks in a splint, anti-inflammatory medication, ultra sound therapy, progressive mobility and strengthening exercises as pain allows. If you’re lucky, you’ll receive full range back just in time to celebrate with your team after they win the championship in Houston.”

Unacceptable. Testu had ninety-nine days until the 2016 NBA Draft and only one sure tournament with Taiga left. He wouldn’t miss it for the world, let alone a TFCC tear.

“You said it was small.” Tetsuya scolded himself internally for allowing desperation to intrude in his voice. “That means there must be treatments I can do to play.”

The doctor and Coach shared a withering look, but Tetsuya spoke without fear. “I have a close friend back in Tokyo whose father is a doctor, and he, himself, is in medical school. I will find out if there are treatments, and I will do them in order to play.” 

The intense edge in Coach’s voice was new to Tetsuya. Even during the try-outs, Johnson had never sounded so cold. He placed both his hands upon Tetsuya’s shoulders and pinned Tetsuya with one of his piercing glares. “You’re an adult, and I’m not your father. So I’m not going to baby you.”

“My own father didn’t baby me.”

“For some reason, I don’t doubt that, but you have a future ahead of you, not just this tournament. You’ve got three more great years at this school, and I don’t know if you’re NBA material. But you’re special, and I know you can make it happen if you want to.”

“However,” the doctor interjected, “if you do damage to your wrist any more, you’ll most likely need surgery, and though there is a high percentage of recovery rate—it can be career-ending. And it will definitely take you out all of next season. Not to mention, you could do permanent damage and never be free of the pain.”

Like Kiyoshi-senpai. Granted, he went through surgery in America and physical therapy with Alex, but his knee still ached after streetball games and intense workouts.

Tetsuya had a more selfish reason to take to the court, and he would accept that. Taiga had given him so much, helped to mend the broken friendships of Tetsuya’s youth, shared his apartment and his life. He wanted to play with Taiga, wanted to share their basketball, at least one more time.

“I want to play.”

The doctor let out a reserved sigh but said nothing more to deter him. “Nothing strenuous for practices. You’ll be getting two braces. One to wear during games and a soft brace for all other times. Have your friends wash your hair and feed you even. Airplane noises optional.”

Tetsuya guessed that was supposed to be joke. He didn’t find it funny.

“Before your next time, you’ll get a cortisone shot, and before every game, you’ll receive aerosolized lidocaine in order to numb the area. But don’t think it’s going to be all sunshine and daisies. It’s going to hurt a lot, and your range of motion will be limited. You probably won’t be able to shoot, and don’t even think about that ignite passing you do. You’ll probably be able to dribble and pass normally. That’s about it and probably not even for the whole game.”

“Hai.”

“That means ‘yes,’” the coach informed the doctor. 

“And come back when the pain gets too much to handle and you’re going out of your mind.”

“You really don’t know what this kid is capable of, do you?”

Tetsuya’s wrist felt hot and tight and numb all at once, like it had been pulled beyond its limits and then recoiled, which perhaps was an accurate statement. He pointedly ignored his phone, though he already received a barrage of texts—from his brother, from his team and former teammates. Riko even sent him information about TFCC tears and a regiment that should bring him back up to playing capabilities. It paralleled the doctor’s original retreatment, but she added, “Don’t you dare play on it, or I’ll put you in a Boston crab roll.”

There was one flaw in her plan—the Pacific Ocean. 

Coach led him to the hospital waiting room, where Taiga, Tatsuya, Ryouta, Atsushi, and of course, Daiki waited. 

Somehow, Ryouta beat both to Taiga and Daiki to his side. “Kurokocchi! You’re alive!” 

His sudden embrace jerked a flinch from Tetsuya, who managed to keep his hiss to a low whisper. Even with the pain-killer, Tetsuya’s wrist flared with a new, acute throbbing. 

“Dumbass.” Tugging Ryouta from Tetsuya, Taiga looked equally pissed and jealous. “Let my boyfriend breathe, all right? You’re worse than the paparazzi.”

“I know the paparazzi, Kagamicchi, and I am not like them at all.”

Ironically, it was Daiki who asked first, and the tenderness in his voice reminded Tetsuya of their history. “How’re you doing, Tetsu?” 

“Thank you for your concern, but I am fine,” he assured, face as blank as he could make it, but if anyone could read his emotions, it would be the very people in this room. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“So why are you wearing that?” Taiga spat with little tact, glaring at Tetsuya’s soft cast like it personally offended him. 

Tetsuya’s face swelled with heat, and his stomach plummeted as he forced himself to say, “It’s just a minor sprain. I’ll be playing in the tournament, Taiga-kun, but can Daiki-kun say the same?” 

Daiki’s eyes widened with shock and then shame before he muttered under his breath, “Bastard deserved it.”

Tetsuya’s usually bland face softened, but Taiga channeled Satsuki, smacking Daiki across the back of the head. “That wasn’t for you to take care of! The NCAA is investigating the incident, and you know the NBA scouts will bring it up—”

“They hurt Tetsu, Bakagami,” Daiki replied, ice lacing his voice. “It was _Tetsu._ You should be grateful I went bat-shit crazy on Payne or you would have. You know you would have.”

At least Taiga had the humility not to disagree, but Tatsuya cleared his throat, materializing at Taiga’s side. “Are you sure you’re all right, Tetsuya? Just a sprain?”

Tetsuya nodded, though by the dark look Tatsuya sent him, he doubted his shooting guard believed him. But Tatsuya didn’t speak his misgivings, and then Taiga slung a comforting arm about Tetsuya’s shoulders and drew him close, pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. Like always, the blush spread from Tetsuya’s cheeks through his entire body. 

As they headed toward the team bus and subsequently, Aria, Daiki murmured, “ ‘ey, Tetsu? I’m sorry…for what that bastard did to you.”

Daiki wasn’t wearing his uniform or even his warm-up sweats. Instead, he had donned a pair of jeans that were just one size too tight and a similar T-shirt, probably Ryouta’s. It was like he wanted to distance himself from his team, even insofar as not wearing its colors. 

Tetsuya, mindful of his wrist, wrapped one of his arms around Daiki’s middle and buried his face in his best friend’s upper torso. Daiki choked and tensed, but eventually, an arm came about Tetsuya in a begrudging embrace. 

“Do your best, Daiki-kun, so we can meet again in the bracket.”

“Tetsu, I don’t—”

“We won. That means we have an automatic slot in March Madness. I expect to see you and USC there, so we can finally finish our revenge from last year’s Winter Cup.”

Daiki’s eyes trembled, but he nodded once and ruffled Tetsuya’s hair. “Right. Like you could ever beat me…”

Everyone in the room, even the UCLA coaches, leveled a dark glare at Daiki, who gulped loudly and added, “…again.”

Tetsuya retreated to Taiga’s side, accepting his protective hold again, sighing into the offering warmth that always felt right against his cheek. The Pac-12 game fell in the late afternoon, so it was just past nine when the team entered the lobby of the hotel. Instead of flying home, the coaches decided to reward them with another night in Vegas, but Tetsuya was exhausted. He flopped onto his bed the moment they entered the room, too tired to even change out of his uniform, so Taiga lifted him into the shower, careful to remove the soft cast and keep Tetsuya’s hand steady. After he toweled off Tetsuya and dressed him in pj bottoms and a clean T-shirt, he placed Tetsuya on the bed and retrieved his cast, kneeling to see the swollen and bruised appendage up close. He said nothing, though Tetsuya saw the raw, sincere apologies glistening in his eyes, and then Taiga tightened the cast upon his arm and pressed a tender kiss to the middle of Tetsuya’s palm. 

Strong arms wrapped about Tetsuya’s body and held him close that night, his face buried in the crook of Tetsuya’s neck. He sucked in a deep breath as if he’d almost lost his best friend and needed to feel Tetsuya’s tangible presence to relax. 

Tetsuya knotted his good hand’s fingers with Taiga’s and closed his eyes. Ninety-nine days—not that he was counting. 

*^*^*

Even with Tetsuya’s pain tolerance, the shot before the game was excruciating. He learned very early on not to shoot unless a-game-on-the-line-no-seconds-left scenario came up, for the brace gave him little reprieve from the throbbing agony of torn cartilage. Coupled with the pain-relieving spray, the injury went from agonizing to barely tolerable, allowing Tetsuya to take the court. Taiga offered him a fist bump with his left hand instead of his right, and they took their positions for the first of five games to the championship. 

They tore through their first game, Coastal Caro, defeating them 75-50 even with Tetsuya resting the second half. It reminded Tetsuya too much of his first year of Seirin when his misdirection didn’t allow him to play forty minutes, and now that he could, he wanted to play them all. But he cheered loudly from the bench as Gabe took the court, and he enjoyed watching his senpai shine with the other starters. 

UCLA marched onto the Sweet Sixteen to meet Wisconsin since unfortunately, USC lost in their first round without Daiki—who had received a one-game suspension for hitting his own captain—and Tetsuya texted him, _One day, Taiga and I will enact our revenge, Daiki-kun._

_There is only one way to do that, Tetsu._

It was a blatant challenge, but Daiki was always the one pushing him to do things he wasn’t sure he could. That first year in high school, Daiki had been the one to fuel he and Taiga’s growth as players, and in a way, he’d even solidified their partnership. Then, Daiki was the last one they lost to in high school, and Tetsuya craved revenge ever since. Though UCLA won their game versus USC (95-83), Daiki and he had sat out the remaining third and fourth quarters. With Taiga and Tatsuya on the court, USC didn’t stand a chance. 

But Daiki was jumping to the NBA next year, so there would be only one way for Tetsuya to play in an official match against him again. 

So Tetsuya ignored the text. He wasn’t sure if he’d last the rest of the season, let alone ever play at the level he did this season. Perhaps it was wrong for a shadow to shine; perhaps he’d burned his wings in the sun. But he wouldn’t fade back to the darkness just yet, not when there was a championship to win. 

UCLA blew away Wisconsin (97-90) before barely finishing off Arizona (92-90), the winners of the Pac-12 the last few years. They met up with Stanford for the West Division Championship in L.A. at the Staples Center, the arena packed with fans of both teams. Daiki and Satsuki met Taiga and Tetsuya before the game, wishing them luck, while Ryouta shouted from courtside seats, the showoff. Since his stint on _Saturday Night Live_ doing celebrity impressions, he’d become a celebrity himself, an overnight sensation, and when they restarted their Saturday games, their audience would probably be international. They’d already been featured on TMZ.

Seijuro met Tetsuya at half-court during warm-ups, pointedly glaring at Tetsuya’s wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Tetsuya ignored the question. “It won’t interfere in my play.”

“I’ve received detailed reports from Riko-san as to why that is a lie.” Seijuro’s voice deflated Tetsuya’s strong front. “Taiga doesn’t know, does he?”

“And you will not be the one to tell him.”

“It is your business. I will leave it to you for now, but know this.” He leaned forward to speak through the rock music used for the warm-up. “You are doing this for the wrong reasons. You think he’ll leave you if you don’t play, but it is the exact opposite. Think about that before you harm yourself anymore with your misplaced fears.”

Tetsuya narrowed his eyes. “You _think_ you know everything.” 

“No, not anymore,” Seijuro admitted, “but I know you. And I know him. And he’ll never forgive you for this.”

“We’re going to win the championship,” Tetsuya defended with an edging smirk. Anything to stop this course of conversation. 

Seijuro smirked, too, realizing it for the distraction it was, and relented. “That has yet to be seen.”

Seijuro was ruthless, and during the game, he forced Tetsuya to play with his injured right wrist, attempting to push Tetsuya to the bench. It was a lesson, one of tough love, trying to show Tetsuya just how much of mistake he made playing with such a terrible injury. And Tetsuya paid the price, but instead of turning to the bench for strength, Tetsuya remained on the court, battling neck and neck against Seijuro with Taiga. 

In the final moments of the game, a point behind, Reo took Taiga out face-guarding him, leaving Tetsuya to Seijuro. Mad at his brother and hardly able to keep the pain from his face, Tetsuya used the Emperor’s Ankle Break for the first time—and on Seijuro himself—and then went up for a shot. The pain was instantaneous, throbbing, and debilitating him. Thankfully, the overwhelming cheers of the UCLA fans drowned his shrieked cry. 

They won a berth to the Final Four. 

But the damage was done. The numbness and tightness returned to his wrist full-force, but he managed to hide his tears of pain behind tears of joy as Taiga rushed him, picking him up and hugging him with all his might. Tetsuya wrapped his good arm around him, holding him close as they shared a scream of utter ecstasy. Two more wins, and they’d claim the championship. 

That night, in the locker room, Taiga shoved him up against the shower wall and kissed him in within an inch of his life, still mindful of Tetsuya’s wrist but supporting his whole weight with an arm cradling Tetsuya’s waist. Despite the public scene, Taiga took his time, caressing Tetsuya’s cheek before nestling his face in the crook of Tetsuya’s neck, sucking upon the skin within the crease until Tetsuya moaned lowly. When he entered Tetsuya, Tetsuya felt so full, so alive, every nerve sparking from the adrenaline of the game plus his wanton desire of Taiga. When they came, he whispered for Taiga to stay inside of him, their bodies entwined under the rejuvenating steam.

They’d made love, and Tetsuya wanted nothing more than stay this way for the rest of his life. 

When they finally emerged from the locker room, Seijuro was waiting for him, leaning against the wall across from the door and texting someone on his cell phone. When he saw Tetsuya, he ended his text abruptly and pocketed his phone, then glared at Taiga with a rather hostile expression. 

“If you are done defiling my brother, may I speak with him privately?”

Taiga sputtered, but Seijuro crossed the distance swiftly, snatching Tetsuya by the collar and dragging him down the hallway until they were outside on the chaotic streets of L.A.

“Enough with the charade, Tetsuya. I pushed you to your physical limits. You are finished for this tournament.”

“You’re not my captain anymore, Aniki,” Tetsuya said with little remorse. “And I am an adult in America. You have no say in my life.”

“You are making the biggest mistake of your life. You cannot ask me to sit back and watch.”

Tetsuya wrapped his good arm about his body, saving his fluttering jacket from the brutal winds. “I only have eighty days left, Aniki.”

“He isn’t going to leave you.” When Tetsuya averted his eyes, Seijuro’s widened, shockingly so. “You’re doing this on purpose. You want him to leave.”

“I’m only holding him back, and now with this—” He motioned toward his bandaged wrist. “What happens if he stays at UCLA for me, and then he gets injured in his senior year? What then?”

“Then he’ll become an engineer.” 

“Then he’ll resent staying back to play college ball with me. Aniki, he’s ready to go professional. You’ve played against him. You know that.” Tetsuya wished his coat kept the cold from creeping into his heart. “He once told me, back at Seirin, that if I didn’t evolve my basketball fast enough, he’d leave me behind. Since then, I’ve been trying frantically to keep up…” He glanced up at the Staples Center, illuminated ominously in the dingy city. “…and I can’t anymore.”

“It’s the injury talking.” Now Seijuro sounded desperate, gripping onto Tetsuya’s shoulders and giving him a hard shake. “Tetsuya, have you seen your plays? Have you watched the TV coverage? You’ve surpassed me, and there’s no point guard in America who has been able to beat you. Don’t you see? You’re there, too. And next year—”

Tetsuya’s own sad smile reached his eyes, crinkling the skin underneath them. “—will be too late. He’ll be gone, and I need this tournament, Aniki. I need to win with him, be with him like that one more time.”

Maybe then he could survive the severing of his heart. 

Seijuro released him his shoulders but on impulse, trapped Tetsuya in a strong embrace. Tetsuya blinked, uncertain of just what Seijuro wanted, until the tears surged up in his eyes. With his good hand, he clutched Seijuro’s jacket as he released the silent sobs he hadn’t felt build up inside of him. 

“You are the strongest person I know, Tetsuya,” Seijuro whispered as he flattened his little brother’s hair in a soothing caress. “I wish sometimes you weren’t, but you are. So for once, let me be strong. Let me catch you when you fall.”

Unable to stop the tears, Tetsuya simply nodded. 

*^*^*

His time in Houston was nothing short of torture. The damage he’d sustained during the Stanford game was substantial but not enough to take him out of the tournament—in Tetsuya’s opinion. The team’s doctor and trainer both voted against it, but Tetsuya made the ultimate decision. He would play. 

With only five days before UCLA’s first match, the trainer put him through a strengthening regiment and administered an extra shot of cortisone, which the doctor, again, advised against. But it eliminated enough pain that Tetsuya could dribble and pass. Nothing superhuman like before, and shooting would be impossible now. He could deflect, though, which was his specialty after all, and he resumed practices with the team when they arrived at the arena.

The NRG Stadium court was huge and fantastic, decked out in the colors of the Final Four teams. As they stood in the middle of the empty court, Tetsuya felt his heart skip. His hands trembled, and he wanted nothing more than to start the game. Then a ball slammed against his head, and Tetsuya whirled to glare at Taiga, who wore a cheeky, irritating smile. 

“Trembling with excitement?”

“Please excuse me as I steal one of Shin-kun’s favorite lines, but ‘Go die,’ Taiga-kun.”

Instead, Taiga wrapped Tetsuya in a quick, intimate hug. “I could die in your arms tonight,” he murmured, but before he landed a kiss, Tetsuya elbowed him into the gut. 

“After we win, Taiga-kun. You know my stamina isn’t able to take such sensuous activities before our toughest games of the year.”

“You could just say I’m too man for you.”

“Is that supposed to make me want to jump you, Taiga-kun?”

“Come on. You know you love me.”

Tetsuya’s heart plummeted because he did, and it hurt to think that soon, he’d have no right to. But instead, he tugged Taiga’s head down by his shirt and gave him a lingering, thorough kiss that threatened to release everything Tetsuya wanted to keep bottled inside. 

Taiga kept him close once Tetsuya freed his lips, staring straight into his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Tetsuya forced a gentle smile to his face and placed a hand against Taiga’s cheek, savoring the warmth he found there. “Yes. I’m just really glad I met you, Taiga-kun. You’re not just my light on the court but the light of my life.”

After a moment of profound shock, Taiga’s face lit up with pure affection, but then his wide smile edged into a smirk as his hand wandered down Tetsuya’s back. A ball to the back of the head surprised an “Ouch!” from Taiga, and he immediately released his boyfriend. 

“Hey! What did I say about PDAs before games?” Thompson shouted. “Don’t think with your dick, dumbass.”

Tetsuya bowed and apologized for Taiga and himself, but when Thompson turned, Tetsuya retaliated a fistful of Taiga’s ass. 

“Hey!” he yelped, but when Thompson whirled back, Tetsuya had already started his morning laps.

Their first match and the gateway to the championship came against Ohio State, one of the elite teams that dominated the court year after year. 

The UCLA bench players jogged to the court while the five starters hung back, waiting to be called. Tetsuya, as the point guard, was always called first, but Taiga stood by his side. After Tetsuya bent his knee and swiped the dirt off his sneaker with his left hand, Taiga followed with a swipe of his right to spare his wrist any further pain. 

Taiga took a deep breath as the announcer rattled off the Ohio State players first, as they were the away team. Taiga said nothing, of course. Perhaps after all these years, there was nothing to be said between them. As the announcer boomed Tetsuya’s name over the obnoxious cheers and boos, he lifted up his fist, and a simple bump spoke of everything between them—the undying trust, the unbreakable bond, and their unwavering devotion. 

Invigorated, Tetsuya took off down the tube into the frenzy of the fans. 

Even though Tatsuya and Sanderson were called next, Taiga took his place next to Tetsuya, sheltering him between Tatsuya and himself. The team then slapped hands. They curled into a huddle, and they rocked back and forth before letting out a growl and “Fight!” 

The fans screamed so loudly Tetsuya couldn’t think. Once the referee through up the ball, he only reacted to the plays at hand, which was difficult as UCLA was a communicative team, prone to helping one another on defense especially. He saw the offense’s plays forming, watching the rhythm of the team and knew where to strike, but his teammates couldn’t hear him over the screams. Despite how close they’d become, they had yet to open the door to the True Zone, and with Tetsuya’s own shortcomings plus his wrist, the game was the penultimate battle the media made it out to be. 

Halfway through the first quarter, Coach called a thirty second time-out, but he barely began to speak before Taiga took over, swinging an arm about Tetsuya’s shoulders to draw him close. 

“Give up,” he practically yelled into Tetsuya’s ear. 

Give up? Taiga knew that he never gave up, so—why was Taiga smiling?

“We can’t play regular man-to-man, can we? There’s only one way this will work, and it’s all on you, Tetsu.”

It took a moment before Tetsuya remembered when he’d said similar words to Taiga during that first championship versus Rakuzan. He’d told Taiga to give up playing Seijuro alone and battle alongside him, and as if four years hadn’t passed, Tetsuya smiled a soft, almost nonexistent grin. 

Forgoing his Spark title, he retreated into the shadows, comfortable in the victories of the past, and he used his quasi-Emperor Eye to help to his teammates when needed. But the toll upon his wrist was substantial, causing a deep, painful throb down to the bone. His fingers began to shake, and he almost lost possession of the ball when Taiga clapped twice, ready to take the weight. Usually, Tetsuya would take the ball up the court, but Taiga fed it to Tatsuya, who blazed down for a three. 

“Dumbass,” Taiga muttered, fond, and that simple action was what Tetsuya needed. He descended all the way into the shadows, allowing Tatsuya to take point but still directing the team with his passes and plays. 

They won by twenty. 

The trainer put a piece of cloth in Tetsuya’s mouth to stop him from biting his tongue as he went through the stretching exercises after the game, trying his best to keep Tetsuya’s wrist in working order. The championship game was the day after tomorrow, and Tetsuya needed to move it. 

He could barely bend it when they took the court for that final game, but as he stood at the first center, surrounded by his new teammates and sharing the floor one last time with Taiga, Tetsuya closed his eyes and savored the blaring atmosphere of the arena. The thrilling energy invigorated the team, and the warmth of Taiga’s hand upon his own invigorated him. He still remembered following Taiga at the events’ fair their first day at Seirin and knowing, on a visceral level, that he’d found his true light. 

“Tetsuya,” Taiga said, and just the simple use of his full name drew Tetsuya’s eyes. Taiga gazed down upon him, his smile so tender it pierced Tetsuya’s heart. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

A thousand words died on Tetsuya’s tongue, but Taiga had nothing to thank him for.

 _Thank you for saving me, Taiga-chan._.

He finally settled for raising his good fist, and Taiga smiled again, returning the bump. 

And the game began. 

Kansas proved to be worthy opponents, and they knew at least in part that Tetsuya wasn’t an effective dribbler with his injury. The team relied heavily upon Tatsuya, but even his skills couldn’t rival Kansas’s defense, so Coach decided to sub in and out the shooting guard with Gabe. He even benched Sanderson a few times to keep Tetsuya at small forward because that was how they combated the shimmering Kansas team—with their shadow and light. 

Taiga took care of the offense. Tetsuya still made the plays, finding openings and even putting the ball on the floor when he could, but as long as Tetsuya got the ball to Taiga, Taiga took it to the hoop and passed it off at the last second to one of their forwards or Tatsuya for a quick shot. 

Tetsuya instead focused on defense, stealing the ball before it ever made it to half court or challenging Kansas’s point guard to his weak hand and then forcing him into a horrible pass. Of course, Kansas didn’t make it to the championship without skills and determination, and they battled through, able to make unbelievable shots and sensational passes. Some, Tetsuya envied. 

The game taxed Tetsuya greatly, and he bit the side of his cheek as the medical trainer tried freezing his wrist during half-time. The pain remained, even after he joined the team back in the locker room, and Taiga looked at him, then did so a second, eyes dark and worried. 

“What’s wrong?”

 _My arm is ready to fall off at the wrist._ “Kansas has a very strong basketball, Kagami-kun, as you may have noticed.”

He must have said something wrong—he could tell by Taiga’s widened eyes and open mouth—but Coach called them back to the white board to discuss strategy. Tetsuya could hardly focus, the agony biting into his concentration, but he got the gist of the message. 

Win. 

The thundering cheers woke Tetsuya’s from his pained funk, but he didn’t fully recover until Taiga stood by his side and lifted his fist. 

“Let’s do this, Tetsu.”

Tetsuya returned it with a nod. “Hai.”

Tatsuya ruffled both their hair as he passed, while Sanderson punched them into the shoulders. Thompson patted their heads, much like Kiyoshi used to, and Tetsuya wondered if this was how Taiga felt that first Winter Cup final, carrying all the hope and dreams of their teammates. The pain remained, but he felt exhilarated, charged by the fans’ blaring chants and their friends’ confidence in them. 

They took to the court, ready for the final battle in what had become a long war. 

Despite his best efforts, the pain was so intense Tetsuya thought he might pass out. Simply flinging out his arm to stop a pass was excruciating, and just when he thought he couldn’t take another step, Taiga was there, eyes clear and face intense, ready to share the burden with him. He cut the distance of the passes and filled in for Tetsuya’s arm for the long throws. Like Tetsuya used his quasi-Emperior Eye with his team, Taiga used one on him, knowing where Tetsuya needed him to be. They were in sync once more, better than ever, and the brilliant light of UCLA cast an oblique shadow across the court. 

But Kansas countered, and as the clock wined down to the final moments of the game, Tetsuya refused to let their last game together end in another loss, their only loss of the year. At the end of the court, accepting the ball from Tatsuya after a Kansas score, Tetsuya had only one choice for the win. 

He threw the ball down the court with an Ignite Pass Kai. 

The crowd roared, ecstatic to see him use his signature move, but his own scream was silent, resonating through his body as he collapsed to the ground, the pain finally claiming him. Taiga caught the ball, the very pass that took them through the Winter Cup and this year, and he slammed it home with a violent reverberation. 

The arena went eerily quiet until the two points blinked upon the scoreboard and the final buzzer sounded. Then, with a furious cry, the fans rushed the floor. 

As Tetsuya saw them coming, he swallowed hard, lacking the energy to even stand, but just before the first wave reached him, strong arms swept him up and into a protective, smothering embrace, keeping him high above the celebrating crowd. 

Tetsuya leaned back enough and with his good hand, grabbed Taiga’s flushed and sweaty cheek, taking a mental picture of the delirious smile that brightened Taiga’s face. His large body shook with overjoyed tears, and Tetsuya wanted nothing more than to kiss them away. 

“You did it, Tetsu!” Taiga cried. “It was all you.”

“No, Taiga-kun,” Tetsuya murmured back, unable to break away from Taiga’s mesmerizing gaze. “It’s _our_ basketball.”

If possible, Taiga beamed even brighter and hugged Tetsuya even tighter. 

Tetsuya knew then, in that moment, that if he asked Taiga, he would stay. Taiga would spend the next four years with Tetsuya at UCLA, and he wouldn’t feel a shred of remorse over his decision. Taiga for some reason chose a shadow to love, but Tetsuya wouldn’t let his own darkness swallow the fantastic light of Taiga’s basketball. 

He would let go but not tonight. Tonight, he would celebrate this team and this love and the basketball they created. 

After the trophy ceremony and the team’s own private moments in the locker room, the Director of Operations ushered Taiga and Tetsuya in front of the press, like he had after many of the March Madness games. By then, the duo had changed into their NCAA championship shirts, and Tetsuya wore his new championship cap backwards. Taiga flung a towel about his neck, sopping up the remnants of sweat and champagne the seniors had thrown on him. They answered questions with stupid, giggling smiles that could only come from the euphoria of winning a hard-fought war.

“At the beginning of the season and knowing UCLA’s record from last year, did you ever think you’d win the championship?”

Tetsuya uncharacteristically answered first, leaning toward the microphone. “Hai.”

Taiga let out a hearty laugh and palmed the top of Tetsuya’s head before addressing the crowd, “Sorry, guys. When Tetsuya gets really excited, he only speaks in Japanese. I’ll translate his answers. He says, ‘Yes.’”

“What gives you such confidence?”

“ _I believe in Taiga-kun._ ”

“Idiot! I don’t want to translate that!”

After one of the reporters urged him, Taiga did translate Tetsuya’s statement word for word, which garnished good-natured laughter from the group. 

“Taiga, what have you done to secure such loyalty from your point guard?”

Easily, Taiga replied, “I make a decent vanilla milkshake.”

“What was the hardest game of the tournament?”

Tetsuya communicated with Taiga through raised eyebrows and arched shoulders before Taiga turned to the group, “Each game had its own set of challenges and successes, so it’s hard to choose which was the hardest. Certainly, Kansas gave us a run for our money, so we’re grateful to have won the championship and grateful for the battle. They were strong opponents, and we look forward to playing them again next year.”

“Taiga, rumors say this will be your only NCAA tournament. Are you planning to jump ship to the NBA this summer?”

“I am committed to UCLA for four years, so I look forward to playing in the Final Four again next year.”

“Question for Tetsuya—is it true you’ve played the entire tournament with a torn TFCC?”

Taiga laughed, hand ruffling Tetsuya’s head again until the hat skimmed down his crown. “Please. You guys make the funniest jokes. It’s just a—”

Tetsuya clutched his still throbbing wrist. He had been counting down to the wrong day. He wouldn’t lose Taiga in eighty days at the NBA Draft. 

“…Hai.”

He’d lose him now. 

Taiga’s hand shook on the top of his head, and when his light spoke, his voice was raw, wounded. “…what?”

_To Be Continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_
> 
> **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  1401 days. I called it. 
> 
> **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @absoluteemperor called what?
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight Kagakuro is no more. 
> 
> **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @absoluteemperor @brightestlight WHAT? Kagamicchi broke Kurokocchi’s heart! FOR SHAME, @eyeofthetiger! I call upon the power of my fangirls!
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @kaijocopycat @brightestlight @eyeofthetiger I believe it is the other way around. 
> 
> **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @absoluteemperor @brightestlight The fangirls call upon my power? 
> 
> **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @kaijocopycat @absoluteemperor @eyeofthetiger u cant be that dumb im not that dumb
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger Yet the rules of punctuation escape you, Daiki. And Ryouta, Tetsuya broke Taiga’s heart. 
> 
> **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @absoluteemperor @brightestlight EHHHHHHHHHHH? I’m sorry, @eyeofthetiger! I’ll come over and hug you better! 
> 
> **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @absoluteemperor @brightestlight @eyeofthetiger After I hug @iamshadow.
> 
>  **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @absoluteemperor @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger shut up akashi. hey have you found tetsu & taiga i went to the locker room they werent there
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger Yes. Daiki, Taiga is staying at his father’s house. Will you go see him? 
> 
> **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @absoluteemperor @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger do i have 2 hes gonna be all snotty and shit
> 
>  **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @brightestlight @absoluteemperor @eyeofthetiger I’ll go! I’ll go! SEND ME!
> 
>  **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @kaijocopycat @absoluteemperor @eyeofthetiger fine ill go but if he uses my shirt as a tissue im punching his stupid face
> 
>  **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @absoluteemperor @brightestlight Is Kurokocchi okay? How is Kagamicchi? What happened! Tell us! Tell us!
> 
>  **TMZ** @TMZ  
>  UCLA’s Spark and Flame break up? Read the twitter reveal live now on @absoluteemperor @brightestlight @kaijocopycat’s feeds!
> 
>  **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @TMZ @absoluteemperor @kaijocopycat really hate u ppl mind ur own biz!!!!!!!
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight @TMZ @absoluteemperor @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger @iamshadow 1851 days. 
> 
> **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @absoluteemperor @TMZ @absoluteemperor @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger @iamshadow whats that
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight @TMZ @absoluteemperor @kaijocopycat @eyeofthetiger @iamshadow Just calling it.


	6. Of Pine and Cheeseburgers, of Taiga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the new rating!
> 
> Also, I'm going to break the chapters in half. Most of mine are about 8k, but it'll be easier (and quicker) to proof chapters that are half that size. :)

_Before..._

After UCLA basketball practice, Taiga would throw his bag in the corner of the dorm room and head off to take a shower. If he was in a rush to get to class, he’d peel off his shirt and shorts as he went, leaving them like breadcrumbs for Tetsuya to follow and collect for washing. If he had a little time, he sometimes wrapped his arms about Tetsuya’s waist, snuggling his face in the space between Tetsuya’s neck and shoulder, sending sparks up Tetsuya’s spine. He then trailed kisses along Tetsuya’s jaw before turning Tetsuya and lifting him into his arms. They undressed as they went, Tetsuya’s legs squeezing Taiga’s waist, their lips fused in a heated embrace that would only break to discard their shirts. 

Basketball was an aphrodisiac for Taiga, but once Taiga ran his large hands over Tetsuya’s back and palmed his ass like he would a basketball, Tetsuya came alive, tongue following the curve of Taiga’s strong collar, down his toned chest, and over all the spots that made Taiga shiver and moan. Despite the intense need they felt for each another, Taiga was gentle most of the time, making sure to prepare Tetsuya properly, though Tetsuya figured Taiga secretly liked watching his cool demeanor melt, teeth biting his lower lip to keep his throaty moans stifled. Cheeks flushed, water rolling over their bodies, Taiga always waited for Tetsuya to ask for him before sliding his fingers out and pressing his thick cock into Tetsuya’s tight backside. 

Tetsuya likened Taiga to his animal counterpart then, nipping Tetsuya’s collarbone and shoulder, grunting as he rocked against Tetsuya’s hot skin. Tetsuya, himself, dug his fingers into Taiga’s shoulders, creating bruises they wouldn’t be able to explain nor cared to. Calling Taiga’s name without any honorifics, rolling his hips in hopes of getting Taiga deeper, further, harder, Tetsuya came completely undone. 

Taiga always listened, always pressed sweet, tender kisses to Tetsuya’s temple, his jaw, his lips, where he spent most of his time tasting all Tetsuya’s flavors. When he wasn’t, he stared deep into Tetsuya’s eyes, letting go of all his inhibitions, letting Tetsuya wade in the depth of his affection that always left him breathless. Tetsuya sunk his fingers into Taiga’s damp mane, pulling him close, and murmured a string of lustful moans and helpless gasps as the urgent, rough thrusts brought them to the edge. 

When they come, Tetsuya tightened his hold upon his lover’s neck while Taiga buried his face in his, holding him when the intense waves of pleasure threatened to sweep Tetsuya away in the undertow. Taiga cleaned them thoroughly before shutting off the shower, breathing still a chore for Tetsuya in the afterglow of their coupling and the haze of the warm shower. 

The soft bedding cradled Tetsuya’s body, and then Taiga nestled against him, arm encircling Tetsuya’s waist to pull him close, Tetsuya’s cheek lying upon Taiga’s chest.

When Tetsuya finally came to hours later, tired but aching satisfyingly in a way that only came from sex with Taiga, he smiled at the text his lover sent him, a simple _Love you, Tetsu. Meet me for dinner after class?_

Tetsuya pressed a goofy smile into his pillow and typed back, _Only if Taiga-kun buys me a vanilla latte, too._

He deserved it since Taiga left the workout bags in the corner of their dorm room. Sighing, Tetsuya groaned as he stood and went to empty them. Wet clothes, towels, water bottles, and—Huh. Taiga forget his necklace in one of the zippers again, but it was different this time. Hanging next to Tatsuya’s ring was a second band, a silver one adorned with topaz jewels. 

An engagement or wedding ring. 

*^*^*

_Now..._

“Isn’t that…nah, he wouldn’t be sitting all the way back here, right?”

He just came to watch a basketball game.

“No way. With his connections—front row for sure.”

Why couldn’t he just watch the game?

“It is him, man. He’s wearing a UCLA hoodie.”

Like how many other people in the arena?

“Hey, hey.” Someone shook his shoulder from behind. “Dude, you’re not—you’re not Tetsuya Akashi, are you? UCLA point guard from last year’s NCAA championship team?”

He missed his lack of presence at times, and he silently thanked Seijuro from saving him a lot of grief during their youth. 

Tetsuya shook off the young man’s hand and turned his attention back to the court, two levels below him. “Yes,” he managed, his voice thick with a Japanese accent, even after more than a year in America. “I’m just here to watch the game.”

The brash fan leaned even closer, not caring that Tetsuya wore his hood up or that he didn’t over again. “Dude, you were amazing during that last game. Won me a ton of money in my fantasy league and the March Madness bracket.”

He never knew what to say to those comments other than, “You’re welcome.”

“How’s the wrist? Getting any better? Looking to make a comeback at UCLA this year or maybe join the pros?”

Tetsuya hid his right hand in his jacket, the phantom pain more fierce than the throbbing he remembered following the surgery. “I’m just here to watch the game.”

“Who are you routing for, man? The Knicks and Taiga Kagami, right? Gotta be your former teammate.”

“Dude! No way.” The person on the other side of him in a Lakers’ jersey knocked him in the shoulder. “You’re all L.A., right? And you and Daiki Aomine know each other. Middle school teammates and what not.”

Tetsuya loathed the UCLA coaches for making him do that interview with ESPN—throwing his personal life on the newsstands like entertainment—and Taiga for spilling everything. 

The fans waited impatiently for his reply, so he finally stated, “I’m just here to watch the game.”

“But come on!” The fan next to him invaded his personal space once more, shaking his shoulders rather roughly. “You _have_ to have a favorite.”

Tetsuya stood immediately, knocking the man’s hands from his person. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, dude! Tetsuya! Come on! Don’t be like that.” As he made his way down the row, Tetsuya expectantly heard, “What a douche.”

But the damage had been done, and a low rumble began through the crowd.

“Tetsuya Akashi’s here!”

“Dude, you should have seen that last pass for the championship.”

“Hey, Tetsu Akashi! Tetsu! Can I have your autograph?”

“I have you on my wall!”

“You totally rocked, man!”

“Has been! SIT DOWN!”

“TET-SU!” Of course one fan started to chant the embarrassing cheer that always humbled him when on the court with nine other unbelievable stars. “TET-SU! TET-SU!”

And try as he might, he wasn’t fast enough to clear the long row of stairs before the entire section was chanting. One fan snatched onto his hood, freeing his blue hair as the referee blew a whistle for a jump ball. Even from the platform, he could see the shocked faces of his former teammates on the court.

Too many uneasy emotions swelled in his heart as he remembered that championship game, the sweat and dreams of their youth riding on their back. Taiga and he were freshmen, and they’d have three more years—but Taiga was always shooting for the pros, even if he didn’t know it. And he deserved to be there, with Daiki, fighting for the league MVP.

But Tetsuya would never join him there, and Taiga never forgave him for that.

When he saw the unending pain still raw in Taiga’s eyes, like the day he told his partner about his debilitating injury, Kuroko fled.

*^*^*

_Then..._

“You’ve been playing with a torn TFCC this whole time?” 

They were alone now, Taiga having dragged Tetsuya from the press conference and into the only place they’d have privacy—the girls’ locker room. The dark room shadowed much of their faces, but Tetsuya saw the terrible hurt shimmering in Taiga’s eyes. 

The worry in his voice switched to confusion. “What is that?”

“Triangular fibrocartilage complex,” Tetsuya explained in his emotionless voice, though he doubted it fooled Taiga. “It’s a part of your wrist with small bones and ligaments.”

“And you tore one of those ligaments during that USC game,” Taiga accused. “Is that it?”

“Hai.”

The silence was heavy and suffocating as Tetsuya watched Taiga duck his head, his teeth gnashed and face scrunched in a painful grimace, hands trembling in fists. Tetsuya reached out to cradle one of them in his hands, but Taiga ripped away. 

“How bad is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What the hell, Tetsu!”

“Four weeks ago, the doctor prescribed immobility, stretching exercises, and a light pain reliever,” Tetsuya replied hastily. “I didn’t listen, and the medical trainer has been helping me to keep it in working condition. But—”

Taiga’s crooked eyebrows knitted together, drawn downward by dark realization. “The Stanford game. Fucking Seijuro. He did this to you, didn’t he? He knew about your injury and used it to—”

“—make the pain great enough to take me off the court, to lessen the damage, but I never listen to Aniki,” Tetsuya responded with a harsh tone. “It’s not his fault, Taiga-kun. I decided to keep playing. I wanted to keep playing” _with you_.

Taiga collapsed onto one of the benches, having heard the unspoken words. Shock blanched his usually tan face, his skin an attractive shade darker now that he’d returned to L.A. Taiga shook his head as if trying to reject the truth that hung limply at Tetsuya’s side, at Taiga’s eye level—the tight soft brace on Tetsuya’s wrist. 

“God, Tetsu. I told you. I’m not going to the NBA for at least another three years. They’ll be other tournaments—”

“No, this was our last.” Tetsuya subconsciously grabbed his wrist. “I saw you speak with a scout, Taiga-kun.”

Taiga’s pale features and glassy eyes made him look sick. “My dad said I needed to, at least hear the guys out, and—”

“There were more than one?” Of course there was. Taiga was one of the premier players in the NCAA. NBA teams were probably clamoring for him. “Coach told you the same thing the scout did. You’re ready to go professional, and there’s no reason for you to stay here any longer.”

Taiga’s eyes trembled, staring up at Tetsuya with such uncertainty and confusion. “Why are you saying this? I want to get an education. I’m not Daiki. Ball isn’t life.”

“You can’t possibly believe that, Taiga-kun,” Tetsuya countered. His mouth felt dry, and his wrist throbbed as the adrenaline high began to dissipate. “You’ve done nothing but play basketball since you met Tatsuya-san. You’ve been working toward your dream since I’ve known you, and now that it’s here, you need to go, Taiga-kun. It’s time.” 

Taiga buried his face in his hands for a long moment before scrubbing down his face and glaring at the reddened skin of his palms. “God, Tetsu. I’m not going to leave you behind.”

Tetsuya tried to offer a soft smile of encouragement, but his face felt tight and the muscles hurt. “You already have. You just don’t know it yet.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Taiga shot to feet. “You tore a ligament, Tetsu! And you didn’t even tell me.”

“You would have told me not to play.”

“Damn right!”

“But I needed to play with Taiga-kun, to win with Taiga-kun one more time.”

“Stop saying that, dumbass!” Abruptly, he reached out, tugging Tetsuya off the floor and bringing them face to face. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“But I am.” Even Tetsuya’s own voice sounded empty to his ears. 

Taiga’s hand shook before he glanced down Tetsuya’s braced wrist again.

“I’ll have to go for surgery, but the extent of the damage—the medical trainer said he’d never an injury this—ugh!” Tetsuya grunted as Taiga slammed his back against the lockers, his hands shaking so hard that they shook Tetsuya. 

“How the fuck could you let it get this bad? How could _anything_ ever be so important to lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve?”

“I’ve only worked toward one thing, Taiga-kun.” Tetsuya wiped the tears that trickled down Taiga’s flushed cheeks. “To play with my light upon the court, but a shadow should never believe he can touch the light. And I did. And it burned me. But I didn’t mind being burned when playing with you.”

Taiga shook terribly. His frantic eyes shimmered with fresh tears, and his face twisted into an ugly blotchy mess. “You love basketball,” he murmured. “You love basketball more than anything, and you risked it all to play one tournament with me?”

Tetsuya’s own eyesight blurred as he watched Taiga’s angered front crumble. “Because I don’t love basketball more than _anything,_ Taiga-kun.”

As his cradling hand pulled Taiga’s head down to his, Taiga suddenly tore away as if burnt himself, wide-eyed and trembling. “N-No. Tetsu, you don’t—you don’t forgo medical treatment to play a game with someone.”

“But it’s not just a game, Taiga-kun.” Tetsuya took a step forward, which pushed Taiga a step back. “It has never been just a game with us.”

Basketball was their bridge, their bond. It was the foundation on which they’d built their relationship. 

“No,” Taiga disputed, hearing the unspoken words. “We’re more than a sport, Tetsu. You and me work because we’re a team off the court, too. Because it’s us versus the world, and instead—you didn’t tell me about this. You kept this from me.”

“Because I didn’t want Taiga-kun to know.”

“I wouldn’t want you hurt, and you—you didn’t care what I thought. You made the decision yourself.” He shook his head, the anger that once raged through his veins now fading into the cold truth of hurt. “And I didn’t know.”

Even though Tetsuya knew this moment was coming since the time he heard the doctor’s prognosis a month ago, the agony still sliced through his heart like a serrated blade. “Hai.”

Tetsuya watched as realization dawned in Taiga’s eyes, as he replayed all the moments on the court when he’d come to Tetsuya’s aid, when they’d reverted back to the shadow and light combination from their Seirin days, when Tetsuya couldn’t battle by himself and instead relied upon Taiga’s light to carry him. It had been easy. It had been reflex, instinct, and Taiga shook his head in denial, stumbling backwards and barely avoiding the ground. 

“I-I didn’t know,” repeated Taiga, as if not believing his own words. “And you didn’t want me to.”

“Hai.” Tetsuya reached out again, a regretful smile upon his own wet face. 

“We’re partners, Tetsu! How could you keep this from me? How could you throw away your basketball?” 

“Because I already had. Once.” He shrugged. “I changed every part of my own style to follow you to America. It was an easy choice to do it again for one last tournament with you.”

“I already told you—”

And Tetsuya pulled out his trump card. “You spoke with scouts, Taiga-kun. You kept that from me. I kept this from you. That makes us even, I believe.”

“I can’t believe—I was discussing my future, while you were ending yours.”

“Yes,” Tetsuya admitted, “I was.”

Taiga fled then, as Tetsuya knew he would. “I can’t—I can’t do this.” He ran both his hands through his hair, messing up the sodden locks worse than Tetsuya’s bedhead. “I—I have to go. My dad has a hotel room in the city. I’ll stay with him.”

“So does Aniki. I can—”

“No! No. It’s fine,” Taiga dismissed, never looking at Tetsuya. “I—I just—I have to go.”

The few quiet moments following Taiga’s exit were unbearable, stifling, as Tetsuya replayed the fight in his mind, hearing all the unbridled hurt in his boyfriend’s voice. He wanted to race after Taiga, beg for forgiveness, explain to him all the painful details of this fatalistic thinking, but he forced himself to stay in that dark locker room, alone and silently bleeding. If he ran after Taiga now, his boyfriend would never leave, and he might be condemned to the same fate Tetsuya now faced. 

After what seemed like an eternity—but was only a few moments—the locker room door opened, and Seijuro walked in. He said nothing, just opened his arms, and Tetsuya collapsed into them. 

*^*^*

_Now…_

Walking in L.A. during the day was dangerous; at night, Tetsuya was an easy target with his small stature, overly large sweatshirt, and designer jeans. Seijuro brought the jeans for him the last time he visited from Stanford, taking Tetsuya shopping with the latest endowment he’d gotten from their father. Other than paying his college tuition, their father all but abandoned Tetsuya for what he believed to be an “act of disobedience” by choosing UCLA, despite Tetsuya’s team having won a national championship. Seijuro excelled in his second year of college, his grades shimmering as always and Stanford taking an early lead in the Pac-12 standings. 

Tetsuya’s second year at UCLA meandered along. He’d gotten his job back at the campus library, but physical therapy every other day and daily basketball practices, despite not being able to participate, took most of his time. He could barely fit in one shift at the library, and he usually did on Saturday mornings, which used to be occupied by the Saturday streetball tournaments. 

They were discontinued after Kagami and Aomine went pro. 

Ryouta became a fixture in the movie industry and as per their last Skype exchange, was off filming a dramedy in New York City that was already getting Oscar buzz. Tetsuya would say he felt like everyone had left him behind again if Tatsuya didn’t bring him dinner every night or Atsushi just didn’t drop by every morning with a new vanilla pastry. Or if Seijuro didn’t come down every Saturday afternoon—sometimes with Reo—for a sleepover like they were fourteen again, or Daiki didn’t just drop by every so often and force him—physically, at times—to come to one of his games and sit in the family box with Satsuki. 

The only one he didn’t still see was Taiga, who had been drafted first overall, much to Daiki’s anguish, and set out for a new life in New York City. 

Taiga, who played like a wild tiger, challenged the best players in the NBA and was sure to become the MVP and Rookie of the Year. Taiga, who had the most awesome arms and abs, still made his heart beat with a healthy dose of excitement and fascination. Taiga who poured his entire heart into the game, played with a fantastic mix of passion and adrenaline and raw talent to create a spectacle of athleticism unmatched by anyone, even Daiki. 

Tetsuya stopped and leaned his back against a telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. It had been more than five months since he last saw Taiga, and the first time that he did so, he wanted nothing more than to rush to the court, capture those pale lips until they swelled, and pretend, if only for a few, brief moments, that he hadn’t let the greatest thing that ever happened to him slip away. 

God, Taiga was the best boyfriend in the universe. He let Tetsuya live with him in high school. He made sure Nigou could come to America, and he was willing to throw away his chances at a pro career to spend three more years with Tetsuya at UCLA. 

And Tetsuya lied to him and rejected him. 

Footsteps and snickers sounded off into the distance, and Tetsuya lifted his head to see a few gangbangers gathering at the corner. They had yet to make a move toward him, but he thought he saw a thumb jerked his way and then heard, “Hey, isn’t that the point guard from UCLA? Tetsuya Akashi…?”

Americans valued college basketball way more than they should. 

Bright, LED lights tore through the darkness, temporarily blinding Tetsuya as the car zoomed down the road. Breaks squealed as the dark sports car—a navy Maserati, Tetsuya saw now—stopped abruptly in front of him, the window already rolled down. 

“Yo, dumbass! Get in the car.”

Tetsuya sighed and tipped his head back against the pole. “I’m fine, Daiki-kun. Thank you for your—”

“I wasn’t asking, Tetsu! Now get the hell in this car, or I will put you in this car.”

Daiki had and would do it again, so Tetsuya pushed to his feet and collapsed into the passenger seat. As soon as the door shut, Daiki zipped away. 

“You should have told me you were coming,” Daiki chastised, eyes wandering from the road to meet Tetsuya’s. “I would have set you up with tickets.”

“And you would have told Kagami-kun.”

Not Taiga-kun. Not anymore. Tetsuya’s heart hurt. 

“Hey, that’s between you and Taiga. I’m not getting in the middle of your domestic shit.” 

Tetsuya let out a silent huff before glancing out the window at the passing city, still awake with lights and life at this late hour. “There is no mess, Daiki-kun. Taiga made his choice.”

“After you lied to his face for more than a month and hurt yourself repeatedly just to play with his sorry ass.”

“I did not ask for your opinion.”

“And when has that ever stopped me?” 

Tetsuya heard the defiant smile in Daiki’s voice, which brought an unconscious one to his lips.

“So instead you spent…what? Three weeks’ pay on that ticket?” Aomine guessed, though it was a close estimate. “I’ll reimburse you.”

“I do not need—”

“Is that a hole in your sweatshirt? Sei told me he took you shopping last week.”

“He did, but this is—”

“Have you lost weight?” Daiki did a double-take before zipping onto the I-5. “Tatsuya said he was bringing you food, but it doesn’t seem like it. How about Atsushi? He still seeing you in the morning?”

“Daiki-kun, I’m fine.” Tetsuya crossed his arms and scrunched down into his seat. He noticed when Daiki took the exit before UCLA’s, heading to his own condo rather than the dorms. “H-How is Kagami-kun?”

“What did I say about not getting in the middle of your shit? You want to know how Taiga is, you call him and find out yourself.”

The uncomfortable silence remained until Daiki turned into his private community, swiping a card by a sensor on the entrance guardhouse. “He’s fucking miserable, all right? He collapsed after you left. Barely scored two points, and they were foul shots. He’s not the same without you.”

A selfish part of Tetsuya warmed at the thought, but his cold, calculating logic banished it to the darkest part of his heart. “He’s doing fine without me. Highest scorer in the league, last time I saw.”

“Hey! I’ll catch up.”

“Not before the end of the season.”

“I’ll drive you back to that lonely dorm of yours. Don’t think I won’t.”

It was lonely. Every time Tetsuya walked in, he remembered that day he returned from classes, two weeks after UCLA’s NCAA championship win, to find Taiga almost done packing his boxes. Taiga stopped when he saw him, standing up and not even trying to hide his glistening eyes or splotchy face. He’d been attending his classes, Tetsuya knew through Tatsuya, but they hadn’t spoken or texted at all. 

It had been torture to Tetsuya who hadn’t spent a night apart from Taiga since they lived in Japan and who hadn’t gone without speaking to Taiga in 1,451 days (or so he guessed). 

Something shattered in the middle of his chest, something that had been warm and comforting, and he clutched the doorknob to keep upright. He knew he should fall to his knees, duck his forehead, and present his open palms to Taiga in a true apology that would have his boyfriend sweeping him into a loving embrace followed by rounds and rounds of make-up sex. But instead he stood there, face pale and heart leaking as he forced his voice to remain steady. 

“So you’ve made your decision.”

Taiga, always the hothead, broke first. “Is that all you have to say!”

Tetsuya clung to that doorknob like it was the lifeline. “What do you want me to say?”

“We were partners for more than four years, Tetsu!” Tears spilled down his flushed cheeks. “We’ve practically lived together for three, and I’m moving out! I’m going pro, and I’m leaving you behind. And you just state the obvious like it’s nothing.”

 _It’s never nothing, not with you, Taiga-kun._ “My basketball isn’t as strong as yours. That is a fact, something I cannot change.”

“Bullshit! It was never _your_ basketball, Tetsuya. It was _ours,_ and you threw it away!” 

“If that is how you see it.”

“That’s what happened,” Taiga snapped before his face contorted with a melancholy confusion, hand gripping his necklace through his shirt. “We were partners. At least, I thought we were, but…were we ever, Tetsu?”

Tetsuya watched, as if frozen by some force that mercilessly wouldn’t release him. The sincere rawness of Taiga’s tone cut Tetsuya in places he didn’t know could bleed. 

“I spoke to the medical trainer, and when he wouldn’t tell me anything, I called Shin.” The once angered tears became sad ones. “He explained to me the procedure for TFCC tears and the treatments athletes go through to play. Tetsu—Tetsu, you went through hell, and I-I didn’t know. And you did it to play with _me._ ”

 _It was my choice,_ he wanted to say, but his mouth refused to form the words, suddenly dry, his tongue heavy. 

“Partners tell each other things like that, Tetsu. Partners share their difficulties and their pain, and you shut me out. You took it all upon yourself, and I-I can’t-You should have told me.”

_I couldn’t._

“Why didn’t you tell me, Tetsu?”

 _Because you’d stay._ “Kagami-kun will do well in the NBA.”

Taiga’s eyes widened, his mouth parted at the change in name, and the basketball he held flew toward Tetsuya’s face. Tetsuya deflected it easily with his good wrist, but the meaning hit his gut as if the ball had. 

“You bastard! I’m not the Generation of Miracles, Tetsu. I don’t want to leave you behind. I want to be here for you, but you have to let me be. You can’t keep me at an arm’s length and tell me what you want me to know. I have to have all of you, or I can’t have any of you.”

“Kagami-kun demands what he, himself, cannot deliver.”

“I spoke with an L.A. scout, a Knicks’ scout, one from Miami, and one from Kansas City. You want to see the emails and offers?” Taiga pulled out his cell phone and offered it to Tetsuya. “I only kept it from you because I didn’t have any plans of accepting them. I’m only doing it now because what’s the point of staying if this isn’t working, if all I thought we are, we never were.”

The phone’s passcode was 0802. Taiga’s email address was eyeofthetiger10@gmail.com. His phone’s wallpaper was of their group—the Generation of Miracles and their respective shadows—before they went their separate ways after high school. In contacts, Tetsuya’s information was under “My Light.” 

Around Taiga’s neck hung a simple chain, which now dipped below his shirt to hide the ring Tatsuya gave him and a second ring, a silver one with blue topaz jewels, that Tetsuya wasn’t supposed to know about. 

Taiga rushed forward then, collapsing to his knees at Tetsuya’s feet and wrapping his arms about Tetsuya’s middle. He buried his face in Tetsuya’s stomach. “Tell me I’m wrong,” his muffled voice beseeched. “Tell me to stay.”

_Stay with me, Taiga-kun._

“Tell me you’re sorry for lying to me for the last month, that you won’t do again.”

_I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise._

“And you’ll never hurt yourself again, so you can play a game. Promise me, Tetsu.”

Tetsuya’s body shuddered, and his own tears swelled in his eyes. Even after all this time, Taiga thought more about Tetsuya than he did himself. 

“Promise me you’ll never keep anything from me ever again.”

Hands shaking, his chest physically aching, Tetsuya reached around his back and uncurled Taiga’s arms from his body. The loss of warmth and strength left him bereft and weak, but he forced himself to take a step back, and then another and another. 

_I love you, Taiga-kun, and I always will._

“Goodbye, Kagami-kun.” 

When he returned that night, Tetsuya saw only one thing left of Taiga’s in the dorm room, his UCLA sweatshirt that Nigou used as a pillow. Tetsuya eventually managed to claim it for himself, and he wore it now, laying in Daiki’s guest bedroom. He’d washed it too many times. It no longer smelled like of pine and cheeseburgers, of Taiga. 

_To Be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> “Daiki-kun, do you know what would make me feel better?”
> 
> Daiki scowled from the driver’s seat. “No, Tetsu.”
> 
> “But Daiki-kun—”
> 
> “I’m not letting you get behind the wheel of my car. I’ve seen the way you drive. There’s no way I’m letting you touch my baby.”
> 
> _Ten minutes later…_  
> 
> A police office leaned against the car window. “Sir, do you know how fast you were going?”
> 
> Tetsuya shrugged. “Sixty-five?”
> 
> “ _Thirty_ -five. On the I-5.” The officer stood back and appraised the beautiful Maserati. “I didn’t know this model could go that slow.”
> 
> Tetsuya waited until he received his ticket to punch the laughing Daiki in the shoulder.


	7. Emotional Therapy

Thompson and Sanderson graduated the spring after the NCAA win. Taiga jumped ship to the NBA, and Tetsuya sat on the bench, watching with tiresome apathy. The only starter still on the UCLA team was Tatsuya, but his shots could only do so much. Even with Gabe now in the starting point guard position, UCLA lost its first five games by demoralizing margins. 

Tetsuya watched each game, traveled with the team, and completed his physical therapy, but he felt detached from the game, from his once close friends and even the coaches. Tatsuya hung by him, his only true connection to the team, and they sat together on the bus and the plane while traveling. They spoke very little and never about Taiga, but Tatsuya seemed to understand his need to be near someone he loved without the need for words. 

Tetsuya hadn’t touched a ball since the day he broke up with Taiga. 

After the team’s eighth straight defeat, Tatsuya received a text message, and he typed back furiously. No doubt, it came from Taiga, for when Tetsuya stepped out of the bathroom, Tatsuya pounced. 

“Why are you here?”

 _Because I love basketball. Because I want to help, even if it’s just to give advice from what I see off the court. To cheer on my friends and team,_ he might have said, but they were all lies. He never cheered on the team and instead sat silently on the edge of the bench. He was a shell of himself, a dead weight. He probably was more of a hindrance than a help, silently condemning them all for their terrible strategy and lack of skill. 

And he absolutely hated a basketball. 

Every bounce reminded him of Taiga, of his once solid and strong presence. Every squeak of the shoes turned his head, and the rush of warmth in his chest cooled when Taiga wasn’t at the hoop. The shouts, the cheers—or lack thereof—left him feeling cold and lethargic. 

He managed to stare deep into Tatsuya’s suddenly widened eyes with the horrible truth. “I don’t know.”

That deflated Tatsuya, who let out an exasperated sigh and collapsed onto a nearby bench in the locker room. “You tore more than your wrist in that fall, didn’t you? And you have no idea how to fix…this.”

Tetsuya came to sit next to him, listening to every word from his surrogate brother and senpai like it was spoken from a sage. “What is _this_?”

“I don’t know,” Tatsuya revealed, shrugging with a sad smile. “I think a part of you has been torn since you lost your mother, and you’ve never been completely put back together. Taiga began to sow, but he never finished the job. Now without him, you’re clinging to whatever seems familiar, like this.” He propped his foot on a basketball like it was a soccer ball. “You don’t know what to do. Should you continue playing without Taiga? Should you move on and get an education degree? Should you run to New York, apologize, and beg for Taiga to take you back?”

“Tatsu-san watches too many romantic comedies,” Tetsuya said, face blank. 

“Me? You and Atsushi are the ones in love with all those crappy movies,” he growled with fond exasperation. “If I have to watch one more Sandra Bullock or Matthew McConaughey movie, someone is not going to get a happily ever after.”

“Hm.”

Tatsuya turned an incredulous glare. “What?”

“That’s too bad. I believe both Bullock-san and McConaughey-san are in Ryouta-kun’s new movie.”

Tatsuya groaned, but Tetsuya let out a soft laugh, indulging in the humor before he thought about Tatsuya’s words. “You are right,” he admitted, entwining his fingers between his knees. “I-I don’t know what I want to do. There isn’t anything keeping me here…per se.” He dropped his elbows to his knees and dug his fingers into his hair. “I thought…maybe I would play again after the physical therapy finished, but I don’t feel that same…necessity where I once did. I don’t even enjoy watching our games anymore. I think…” He clutched at the shirt over his heart and wondered when he started crying. “I think…I am broken, and I don’t know how to fix… _me_.” 

Scooping him up, Tatsuya allowed his silent tears to wet his warm-up shirt. “Hey, now. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I want you to be happy. That’s all any of us want—Atsushi, Daiki, Seijuro, even Reo and…and Taiga. You know that. So anything we can do to help, we will. Just tell us.”

But Tetsuya didn’t know. 

When the end of the semester came, Seijuro welcomed him up to San Francisco, but Kazunari asked him to come back to Tokyo for the holidays. He went to Japan. Though Tetsuya enjoyed his brother’s company, he had no doubts that Seijuro welcomed everyone from their clique—even Taiga—to his new off-campus condo, and though he’d known everyone longer than his former boyfriend, Tetsuya felt wrong by monopolizing their time after the break-up. 

He’d screwed everything up, and Tetsuya acknowledged that. He didn’t want to cause Kagami more pain than he already had.

Of course, Father always had ways of screwing up their plans at the last moment. Tetsuya cleared TSA security and was buying a vanilla frappe when his phone jingled for Facetime. He immediately answered the request. 

“Who put the star on this year, Aniki?” He smiled, though his jovial grin fell to a deep frown at the scowl on Seijuro’s face. He didn’t even need to ask who caused his brother’s dark glare. “What has Father requested this time?”

“He wants me in New York for the holiday party. I’m already at SFO.”

“Did he at least fly _you_ First Class?”

A ghost of smile flittered across Seijuro’s face. “I upgraded you, Tetsuya, but I called to see if you wanted to join me on the east coast for the holidays.”

Tetsuya managed to bow even over the connection. His time in America hadn’t stolen all his traditional Japanese customs. “Thank you very much for the offer, Aniki, but I already promised Shin-kun and Kazu-kun. And I doubt Father would want to see me.”

“Who knows if he would actually notice you? And even if he did, I don’t care what he wants or thinks.”

“And that’s why you’re at San Francisco International on December 22nd?”

Now Seijuro laughed, and Tetsuya couldn’t help but smile himself. 

“Touché, Tetsuya,” Seijuro conceded, “but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fight him for you.”

Tetsuya never wondered about his brother’s affection or loyalty. They had a bond much stronger than either of them would have with their father, and Tetsuya cherished it every day. “Enjoy your time in New York, Aniki.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by the Garden and see Taiga.”

_Thank you for the reminder._

“He declined to come for the holidays,” Seijuro continued. “He did ask how you are doing, if you were wondering.”

He wasn’t. He really wasn’t, just like this wasn’t their 231st day apart. (Tetsuya counted from the NCAA final, not the fight two weeks afterward—not that he counted at all, of course)

But Tetsuya was too mad at the moment to care about days or even that stupid grin upon his brother’s now cheerier face. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that you have been doing well in your classes; you still enjoy vanilla milkshakes better than lattes; and you have been dutifully making your way through the sophomore class at UCLA.”

“Aniki!”

“I might have said junior class. I don’t quite—”

“I’m hanging up now. I hope your flight attendant is uncharacteristically rude.”

“I told him that he should come for Christmas and find out himself,” he amended with a soft, exasperated chuckle, “and if he came, I would make sure you were there, too. He declined, though. I’m sorry, Tetsuya.”

“I’m sorry for putting you in that position, but thank you for reaching out to Taiga, Aniki. I’ll call you once I land in Tokyo.”

“Safe flight, Tetsuya.”

“Safe flight, Aniki.”

Tetsuya leaned back in his seat on the plane, exhaling in the comfort his brother afforded him, Seijuro’s words still rolling about his head. Of course, Taiga would decline. As part of the NBA, he traveled frequently, so a holiday at home would be a much-desired novelty. But a quick check of the Knicks’ schedule found Taiga on the west coast for a series of games, including one at the nearby Sacramento Kings. A short drive would bring him to Seijuro’s for the holidays. 

Even though he did decline, he still asked about Tetsuya, so that must have meant something, almost as much as a text message from Kagami-san did two days later, on Christmas Eve. 

But now, receiving his latte and a warm towel, Tetsuya’s wrist ached, but it was healing. He wondered if the aching in his heart would ever heal, too. 

*^*^*  
_Then_

Numb. Tetsuya enjoyed the feeling for the moment, the sharp pain in his heart masked, the constant throbbing in his wrist gone. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon his eyelids, not allowing him to raise them, so he instinctively called out to the one who was always by his side. 

“… _Taiga-kun_?”

Movement, shuffling to his right, and then a hand fell upon his left shoulder. Tetsuya flinched, tense on instinct. The hand was small, foreign in both feeling and warmth. It lacked Taiga’s gentle touch or his overwhelming heat. 

“Tetsuya, are you all right?”

Seijuro. Tetsuya immediately melted under the kind greeting and gathered enough strength to open his eyes to see his brother’s shocked and worn face. 

“Aniki…” he breathed, his mouth dry, his voice gravelly. “…where’s Taiga?”

A pregnant pause only coiled Tetsuya’s nerves more, and he opened his mouth to speak again when Daiki called from the foot of his bed. “I—I’ll get him.”

“No,” Seijuro commanded before glancing down at Tetsuya with a slight smile. “Tetsuya, do you really want to see Taiga?”

Tetsuya struggled against the fog clouding his brain, trying to process why Taiga wouldn’t be here. Where was he? What happened? Taiga belonged at his side, stayed at his side, lived at his side. They were partners on and off the court. Why wouldn’t Taiga be here when he needed him?

A finite ache pulsated in his wrist, and the simple reminder snapped everything into its dreadful place. He’d been pulled down on the court by Daiki’s captain, tearing cartilage in his wrist. He forewent doctor’s orders to play in March Madness, and despite the pain that continued, he played through it, encouraged by the warmth of Taiga’s smile and the light that always guided him. 

They won, but Tetsuya lost. 

The once-dull ache in his chest exploded into a searing pain again, and he glanced down at his wrist, now captured in a white cast with blue clasps. 

“The surgery was a success, Kurokocchi,” Ryouta announced in a dampened tone, coming to the opposite side of his bed. He squeezed Tetsuya’s good hand. “You should regain full motion to your wrist and be playing basketball again in no time.”

“And by ‘no time,’ Ryouta means a year or so with intense psychical therapy,” Daiki groused, arms crossed, glancing out the doorway of the hospital room. For what, Tetsuya didn’t care at the moment. 

Seijuro helped him into a sitting position before getting him some ice water to sip. “Don’t drink too much yet,” he advised. “Your stomach might not be settled from the anesthesia.”

The world slowly came back into focus, though he knew he’d pass out again in a matter of minutes. Daiki stole glances out the door every few seconds, and it finally hit Tetsuya why. 

“Daiki-kun shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, laying back upon the mountains of pillows Seijuro and Ryouta piled behind him. “You have a try-out to conquer and lesser mortals to crush.”

“I’m needed here,” Daiki stated, eyes snapping to Tetsuya’s with true concern. “This is more important.”

 _Not to Taiga,_ he thought bitterly. 

“The draft is in less than a week,” Tetsuya managed again. “Daiki-kun needs to impress as many scouts as possible as most will not like his arrogant attitude.”

“Arrogant? I’m confident.”

“You’re egotistical and self-righteous,” Seijuro interjected not without a smile. “Tetsuya’s right. You should go. He’s fine now, and Ryouta and I will stay for the rest of the night. Atsushi and Tatsuya are here as well.”

Daiki appeared torn, glancing out the door again, before stepping forward and squishing Tetsuya’s hand in his larger one. “I’ll be back later, all right? Get some sleep, so I won’t be bored staring at a zombie later.”

“Daiki-kun’s wish is my command,” Tetsuya replied dryly. 

“Smart ass.” Daiki ruffled his hair and then left, muttering under his breath, “I don’t even want to be a Golden State Warrior.”

“You really should rest, ne, Kurokocchi?” Ryouta started to angle his bed back. “It’ll help you recover faster.”

As he leaned backwards, Tetsuya caught a glance of his phone on the end table and wanted to reach out and check. Did Taiga text him? Maybe he called Seijuro or Daiki?

No. If he had, one of them would have said something. Maybe Tatsuya…? It would be more likely for him to call his brother. Yes. He’d have to ask Tatsuya when he saw him next time, if Taiga still cared. 

Seijuro’s fingers brushing his hair chased away Tetsuya’s wayward thoughts, but he still awoke sometime later with tears clumped in his eyelashes, when he saw Daiki had returned but Taiga hadn’t even called. 

*^*^*  
_Now…_

When he answered the door, Shintarou stared down Tetsuya. He finished growing at six-five but still towered over the slightly-framed Tetsuya. 

Tetsuya smiled a friendly greeting and offered a pleasant bow. “Hello, Shin-kun. Thank you for inviting me for the holidays.”

“I did not invite you. Kazunari did.”

“Then perhaps you will let me enter, so I may properly thank Kazu-kun.”

“And if I said no, would you take all your bad luck with you? Aquarius is second to last in the horoscopes today. You did remember to pick up your lucky item. It’s a tiger plushie today.”

Shintarou stated it as a fact, of course.

Tetsuya tried to hold back his biting remark and only managed, “You can understand why I would be hesitant to do such a thing.”

“Yes. Perhaps it would be more prudent if you got the original.” 

Tetsuya actually felt stupid for not seeing the blatant trail leading to that endgame. 

“Allow me to call Kagami, so you may speak with him, seeing as you should be bringing him everywhere with you.”

“Oh, Shin-chan! Stop being so tsundere!” Kazunari all but pushed Shintarou out of the doorway before besieging Tetsuya with a crushing embrace. “Don’t let him fool you, Tet-chan! Your lucky item today was a bared blade.”

Of course it was—so he may stab out his own heart with it. 

Tetsuya envied Shintarou and Kazunari, though he put on a private smile and a gentle tone. They didn’t just share an apartment in Shibuya, close to the Komaba campus of Todai. They created a home with pictures and knickknacks adorning their wall and bookcases. Two separate desks took up their living room with a small seating area in the middle, and the tiny kitchen was intimate, Tetsuya observed as Kazunari and Shintarou moved in sync. Shintarou knew when Kazunari needed soy sauce, handing it from the top shelf without looking while Kazunari gave Shintarou a quick slap of his butt when he wanted to get into a certain draw. 

Tetsuya sighed and glanced away, giving them their time together. He missed watching Taiga flutter about the dorm kitchen, donning his half-apron that said, “How can you help? GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!” Taiga gave Tetsuya his own apron one holiday that read, “Requires Constant Supervision.” He’d never live down that one time he cooked for Taiga and the entire dorm had to be evacuated. 

Or he would have never lived it down if he and Taiga were still together. It became a running joke between the two of them every time Tetsuya offered to cook dinner. Eventually, when Tetsuya said “cook,” it meant either pouring cereal or calling for take-out. 

They had been eighteen, barely adults in America, not even adults in Japan, so romance was a mystery to them. But Taiga had always made sure to order his vanilla latte, and Tetsuya waited for him when his class ended fifteen minutes earlier than Taiga’s. Then, one time, Tetsuya came home to find candles lit, Nigou holding a thorn-less rose in his mouth and Taiga wearing a sleeve-less shirt that showcased his amazing arm attributes. They’d won their fourteenth game in a row, and games—wins more than losses—always got Taiga going. But it was hard releasing that pleasurable energy on the road with their teammates next door and locker room showers shared by all. And Tetsuya all but passed out after every practice at home. This particular day had been one of their very few days off.

And when Taiga tried so hard like this, out of the blue, for no reason whatsoever than he wanted to please Tetsuya, Tetsuya savored every moment. 

Though nothing more than a cherished memory now, Tetsuya remembered the feel of Taiga’s massive hands upon his body, warm and gentle, such a contraction to the strength they possessed. Taiga’s mouth found his, first brushing their lips together before delving forward, leading Tetsuya to their bed and effectively stripping him of clothes and any thoughts other than, “Yes. Please. Now. _Harder._ ”

After four years together, Taiga knew where to touch him, how to hold him, and how to worship him, bowing his head to bite the spot on Tetsuya’s neck that jerked his groin upward. When their hips met, Taiga laughed against his slicked skin, sending a shiver of anticipation up his spine. 

Tetsuya wasn’t sure how sex was supposed to feel—just what levels and depths there were to discover in each other—but with Taiga inside of him, filling him until he couldn’t help but let out a deep groan, his hips moving on his own to get more, there, yes! Tetsuya understood the concept of soulmates, he thought. 

Because even though he enjoyed Taiga (and his magnificent body) again and again that night, he bared more than just his body for his boyfriend. He showed Taiga everything he felt for him in his long stares and whispered admissions, and in return, Taiga showed him the tiny golden flecks in his dark eyes and the taste of desire. He offered gentle affirmations and long embraced that never seemed to end. 

And Tetsuya didn’t want them to. Instead, he remained wrapped in Taiga’s arms long into the next morning, both of them skipping early classes to do nothing more than lounge around in bed and rediscover the lines of their muscles, toned from years of training. Tetsuya thoroughly enjoyed doing that with his tongue.

But he no longer had the privilege of being Taiga’s partner, so the cheerful snow outside the window seemed to mock his plight. 

Tetsuya enjoyed the holiday with genuine delight, watching with hidden smiles as Kazunari fought with Shintarou over who burnt the meal or if Shintarou needed a bigger lucky item. They invited over Ryou and Yukio, and the Miyaji Brothers, and throughout the week, he went to see his own Seirin senapi but skipped out on watching his kouhai practice. If he’d gone, they’d only overwhelm him with earnest questions about the Source and his championship and college basketball. He couldn’t answer them now when he didn’t hold the answers himself. 

On his final day in Japan, Kazunari joined him at Maji Burger, sitting across from him with a respectable number of the burgers, not the mountain that Taiga, Daiki, and even Shintarou consumed. They watched the world pass by in a comfortable silence, though Tetsuya felt the scrutinizing looks his friend sent him. 

“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Kazu-kun?”

“Yeah, what the hell is wrong with you?” 

Tetsuya blinked, hand dropping to the soft cast he still wore. “I assume you’re not referring to my wrist injury.”

Kazunari’s eyes flicked upward to glare. “Why are you here?”

Before he could reply, Kazunari followed up with, “Why aren’t you with Taiga?” 

Tetsuya’s hand shook as they clenched on his thighs. “Taiga doesn’t need me. He never has. His performance in the NBA is proof that—”

Kazunari snorted. “Bullshit, my friend. Try that on someone who doesn’t see you.”

Damn. Kazunari could always see through him, even better than Taiga or Seijuro, so Tetsuya gave him the honesty he was due. 

“Taiga was destined to be part of the NBA,” Tetsuya murmured, his milkshake left to melt by the side of his tray, “and he would have thrown it all away to play three more years with me. What if this happened to him? What if he had been injured and couldn’t play? He would have begun to resent me, and we would have been torn apart then.”

This snort was even ruder. “Did you really invoke, ‘I’m going to leave him before he leaves me’?”

“No,” Tetsuya frowned. His fingers kept running over the top pad of his palm, where a rather large calluses used to annoy him during the season. “I let Taiga go because it was the right thing to do for his future, and I have no right to ask him to forgive me now. He deserves someone who will cherish him enough to never let him go.”

“Rather than the person who loved him so much that he’d do anything for him including but not limited to traversing an ocean, changing his basketball, forsaking the shadows, and letting him go?” Kazunari shook his head and patted Tetsuya’s good hand. “Y’know, this might come as a shock, but you have the right to be happy, Tet-chan. You allow your weak presence to dictate so much of your life. It’s about time you actually chose what you want rather doing what other people want you to.”

Tetsuya opened his mouth to disagree, but he had chosen UCLA for Taiga. He embraced the shadows for his brother, and he listened dutifully to his father until he was eighteen and left for college. The only decision he made for himself was to go to Seirin, which was second best decision he ever made—the first choosing Taiga to be his partner. 

“You know who isn’t happy here? Shin-chan.” Kazunari let out a braying laugh at the shocked expression Tetsuya sent him. “Right? All he’s wanted for as long as I’ve known him is to go to Todai for medicine arts, but he misses playing with you all. He misses his friends, the big tsundere.”

“He actually said that?” Tetsuya marveled. 

“Not in so many words, no, but he has his way of expressing how he feels. And all you Miracles left for the States. All he has left is me—which can be great on our good days and horrible on our bad.”

Tetsuya questioned with his eyes, and Kazunari’s face smoothed. “You were all more than friends to Shin-chan, even you, you sneaky Aquarius. You know that.”

Tetsuya did. The Generation of Miracles were brothers, bonds thicker than blood. 

“USC has a decent medical program, and they’re missing both a point guard and an ace. We’ve been in contact with the scouts for a few months. Shin-chan is just waiting to break the news to his family, but he’s happy, Tet-chan. Practically giddy. You saw that, right?”

Tetsuya smirked. Shintarou was unusually playful and upbeat when Tetsuya first arrived. 

“Shin-chan is happy, Tet-chan. He’s looking forward to being back with you guys, and y’know what? So am I.”

A true, smile found Tetsuya’s face. “I’m glad, Kazu-kun.”

“But what about you, Tet-chan? You haven’t touched a basketball in months, have you? I’ve watched your games, and when the cameras pan to you, you look so…devastated on the bench.

“What makes you happy?”

The next day, Tetsuya boarded a plane not to Los Angeles but to New York City.

_To Be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_
> 
> Seijuro lifted an elegant forefinger as the flight attendant passed. “Miss? I would like a refill, please.”
> 
> The flight attendant sighed loudly. “And I want a brand-new Toyota Camry, not a used one with a stained interior, a devoted husband, enough money to go for my masters degree, and maybe even one of those teacup puppies that fit in my purse. Do you think I ask politely, it’ll just come to me? I don’t think so.”
> 
> She stomped away, leaving Seijuro thirsty and confused.


	8. I Miss You and Your Big, Scary Furball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny is the name I gave the player on the L.A. streetball courts who first invited Taiga to play in the court battle (episode 26) and then who helped Taiga during his study aboard program (episode 38 – “What’s up, Taiga? You giving up already?”). If he’s already been named, please let know it, and I’ll change it. Thanks!

_Before…_

“Tetsuya Kuroko?”

Tetsuya stopped steps from the UCLA locker room door to size up the man leaning against the wall a few paces down. He was abnormally tall for normal standards but blended better into the crowd at the Pauley Pavilion than Tetsuya did. Wearing a sports jacket and a tie, he reminded Tetsuya of many of his father’s employees and business partners, though his greeting smile reminded Tetsuya of Taiga’s boisterous expressions.

At the moment, he just stopped and prompted, “Hai.”

“Hai means ‘yes’ in Japanese, right? I’m still learning.” The man bowed instead of offering his hand, though he still didn’t reach Tetsuya’s height. “Michael Smith. I’m a huge fan of yours. How’s L.A. treating you?”

It missed Tokyo painfully at times, especially his vanilla milkshakes at Maji Burger, but in the six months Taiga and he have been in the States, he somehow began to think of it as home. “Is there something I may help you with?”

“Yes, actually.” The man maintained that brilliant smile, though the tightness on the edge of his lips showed it more forced than natural now. “I might be in need of a grade-A, top-of-the-line point guard for my fledging team. Do you think you might be available in seven months or so?”

By then, Taiga would have jumped ship to the NBA, and Tetsuya—well, he wasn’t sure what he’d be doing then. But he loved L.A. and UCLA and his coaches and teammates, so he couldn’t even fathom switching to another college, especially after he’d gone to all the trouble of making this team. If he was going to play for anyone, it would be the UCLA Bruins. 

He told Mr. Smith just that. 

Smith’s smile became natural again. “Really? See, you’re a winner, and winners strive to get better, to play better and find harder competition to beat. Eventually, you’re not going to find it here, and you’re going to want to trade up.”

“We’re going to win the national tournament this year,” Tetsuya defended with the confidence of his brother. “There is no better team to join in the NCAA circuit, Smith-san.”

“Exactly.”

Tetsuya’s eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed to accuse, “What team do you represent, Smith-san?”

Smith told him. 

Tetsuya’s heart froze in his chest. In the coming months, he wouldn’t tell Taiga he’d been contacted by Michael Smith or seven other teams. He wasn’t good enough for the NBA, he believed, and his injury eventually proved just that. 

*^*^* 

“So you have finally recognized your error and recanted on your educational institution to focus on more important matters?” his father repeated as if Tetsuya didn’t know what he’d just said. His father resituated his glasses upon his face and glanced down at the memo on his elegant mahogany desk. “Though I would never approve of your choice of disciplines, I would have more respect for you if you would have excelled in them instead of failing.”

Standing to the side of their father’s desk in an impeccable three-piece suit, Seijuro interjected, “Father, Tetsuya’s team won the national championship last year, and he was on the Dean’s List academically for the first three semesters.”

“Still, here he is, wanting what he gave up for his fruitless sport fantasy.” 

Seijuro sighed but didn’t disagree. 

When the door to the elaborate office opened behind Tetsuya, his father stood and buttoned his jacket. His attendant waited patiently, iPad held at chest level as she actively typed away. She said nothing, her presence enough to convey the upcoming meeting was starting. 

Akashi-san raised his eyes to meet Tetsuya’s stringently. “I will permit you to remain in New York for the remainder of your winter break. If I decide you are a worthy addition of the company, then I will transfer you to a New York institution to further your studies. If not, I will send you back to Japan to finish your studies away from these American distractions.”

Where not even Shintarou or Kazunari would remain. “Yes, Father.”

The ominous silence weighed heavily upon Tetsuya’s shoulders until the door slammed shut, and Seijuro snapped, “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, Tetsuya. You must know that.”

Tetsuya disagreed. The biggest mistake of his life was letting Taiga go, even though he still believed he made the best decision for his one-time boyfriend. 

“It is unfair for Aniki to shoulder all the family burdens by himself. You want to be a professional shogi player, which will be improbable if you are the only one involved in company matters. I should be more—”

“You’re punishing yourself.”

Tetsuya flinched. 

Seijuro let out an exasperated sigh and moved to the minibar, where he poured two cups of tea. “You can’t have what you want, so instead, you’ve decided to do the exact opposite as a means of redemption.”

“But Aniki, you need to—” 

“I am touched that you would be willing to sacrifice your dreams for mine, but there will be time and place for me to conquer the shogi world. I don’t have to do that at this minute.” He placed the teas on a coffee table in a sitting area of the office, a beckon for Tetsuya to join him, which he did. “But you have a time limit, Tetsuya. You excelled at basketball on Taiga’s level. You enjoy the sport more than—”

“I hate basketball,” Tetsuya admitted with tired truth. It sounded weird to say out loud after all this time, and perhaps, it wasn’t the whole truth. “I’m a shadow. Though I briefly touched the light, I am not worthy of its presence or its generosity. And without a light, it seems meaningless to play.”

Seijuro sipped his tea and waited until the cup clinked into the saucer to respond. “You didn’t touch the light, Tetsuya. You shone.”

“Be that as it may, I have no hope to continue without—”

“Why not?” Seijuro uncrossed his legs to stare straight into Tetsuya’s eyes. “Why did you begin playing basketball with Shige in the first place?”

Seijuro knew the answer to this question, so it seemed pointless to answer. But Tetsuya obliged his brother anyway. “Because I thought basketball looked like fun on TV, because it was fun with Shige and later on with you and our friends.”

“And you wouldn’t have enjoyed playing with Tatsuya-san?”

Well, yes. Tatsuya was a talented player and his partner above the paint. Tetsuya could predict his movements as easily as he could predict Taiga’s, perhaps even easier because they played similar positions. He enjoyed connecting with Tatsuya for one of his awesome three-pointers or for an alley-oop every so often, though neither of them could dunk. 

As if understanding what Tetsuya thought, Seijuro continued, “I understand it’s hard for you to be apart from Taiga and just being on the court brings back painful memories, but you overcame the difficulties we gave you in middle school. He grew stronger and have succeed despite so many obstacles. You became the number one point guard in the Source.”

“I’m not—”

“And that’s your problem,” Seijuro accused. “You feel most comfortable in the shadows, and I’m sorry for that. But it’s time to face the cold reality you fear to acknowledge.

“It’s not that Taiga doesn’t need you. It’s that you don’t need Taiga.”

Tetsuya shot to his feet, fists trembling at his sides. “What are you—”

“You are no longer a shadow, Tetsuya. At least, not the shadow you were. Your basketball does not rely upon another player anymore. That’s not to say you could win another championship with only you and Tatsuya, but you shine now. And though I’m sure playing with Taiga is more enjoyable than anything else, it doesn’t mean you can’t have fun playing with your friends. And it doesn’t mean you have to hate basketball—or at least try to hate basketball, because I don’t think you really do.”

Tetsuya opened his mouth to respond, but Seijuro shoved a biscuit inside it. “You don’t have to make any decisions today. I’m just asking you to think about what I’ve said. And this—if Father had created an American division in any other city, would you have come? Or you did to come to New York to be closer to someone?”

Falling back to the couch, Tetsuya found no answers for Seijuro, so it was a good thing Seijuro wasn’t expecting any. 

*^*^*

Akashi Enterprises was a beast, one Tetsuya struggled to fight. He shadowed his father the first two days before he began to shadow Seijuro, who took business meetings with a sharp tongue but fair responses. He exuded all the natural leadership their father instilled—confident, proud, brilliant. Tetsuya began to wonder if he would be better suited for the building’s daycare facility, which Akashi-san offered free of charge to his employees. Seijuro took him there on their third day together, asking him to stay for a few minutes while he used the bathroom down the hall. His brother never came back. 

Tetsuya cursed Seijuro many times in his head for his devious plan, but he enjoyed the bright smiles and overjoyed giggles the children gave him when they played blocks or built train tracks or ate finger food. And when one of the children learned to count all her hands and toes with Tetsuya’s gentle coaxing, he found himself holding his phone, ready to text Taiga the good news. 

He stopped short of actually sending the message and bitterly shove his phone back into his pocket. Seijuro’s words fluttered into his mind—had he come to New York simply because Taiga was here? Was his duty to his family just an excuse? 

Tetsuya shook his head and helped Seijuro with his reports that evening as compensation, despite the displeased glares his brother sent him. 

He’d been able to keep out of Ryouta’s claws for close to two weeks, but Daiki’s infamous big mouth must have flapped again. Ryouta assaulted him the moment he opened the penthouse door, engulfed by a choking embrace that eventually swept away his annoyance. Though Ryouta nearly suffocated him, Tetsuya silently enjoyed being adored by Ryouta. It was a soothing comfort to know someone always wanted to spend time with him, and despite his obnoxious and sometimes loud presence, Ryouta was genuinely a kindhearted person. Tetsuya liked him a great deal and cherished their friendship. 

“You should have told me you were here, Kurokocchi! I would have come sooner!” Ryouta bemoaned, flopping back on their couch like a family member rather than a friend, which he was, Tetsuya acknowledged. “Then again, my agent has me working all the time. I’ve had commercials all this week, plus a movie shoot and a TV guest appearance. And I didn’t even want to be on one of those CSI shows. They’re no fun to tape. So serious.”

“And to think you gave up acting and modeling while you were in high school,” Seijuro replied next to him, sitting cross-legged in his comfortable hoodie and designer jeans. 

“Well, basketball was fun then! I wanted to play with everyone.” With his arms hanging over the couch’s spine, Ryouta let out a loud sigh. “It was manageable in L.A., y’know? When we all met for streetball games, but here in New York—Kagamicchi doesn’t even have enough time to play with me. He’s got practice in the morning and then games at night or he’s traveling—”

“Or he’s ignoring you.”

“Akashicchi, so mean!”

Tetsuya took a seat opposite them and hid his frown. Knowing Taiga, he probably avoided Ryouta as much as possible—or as much as anyone could. Ryouta just had a way of infiltrating your life, whether you liked it or not, but you couldn’t say no to his pleading eyes and earnest tone. 

“Hey!” Ryouta sat up suddenly. “There’s a Brooklyn Nets’ home game tonight. Let’s go.”

Tetsuya glanced away. “No.”

“Oh, come on, Kurokocchi!” Ryouta was at his side in an instant, hands clutching Tetsuya’s and eyes wide and tearful. “I want to see a game! I miss basketball so much, and we don’t even get together for our games anymore. And the last time I went to play at a streetball tournament, my agent came and scolded me. Said I shouldn’t risk any damage to my face or hands. But it’s basketball, y’know? I still crave it. So come on! Pluh-leeze, Kurokocchi!”

Seijuro’s gentle smile reached his eyes as he stood and grabbed his cell phone. “I’ll get the tickets.”

Tetsuya easily blended with his weak presence into the throngs of fans heading into the new Barclays Center, though he could have done without his—Taiga’s—UCLA sweatshirt. But no one seemed to give him a second glance, especially with Ryouta keeping him close with an arm about his neck. He wasn’t nervous, per se, walking into a basketball arena, so much as…apprehensive. He really didn’t want to sit through a whole forty-eight minutes with every bounce of the ball and every squeak of sneakers reminding him of what he lost. 

He buried his face in the front of his sweatshirt, wishing it still smelled like Taiga with his pine cologne and cheeseburger grease, but Ryouta’s arm was a welcome comfort, helping him through the arena doors. He loathed the number of Kagami jerseys he saw, but this was New York. He’d gotten it used to it the first day he walked off the plane and saw three before he hit the subway. Even if this wasn’t the world-famous Madison Square Garden, the city itself was owned by the Knicks. The Nets were just given permission to play as guests, really. 

Tetsuya couldn’t explain it, but he wanted to wear a Kagami jersey, too, preferably one that smelled of pine and cheeseburgers. 

Seijuro retrieved the tickets from will-call—they were probably for their father’s private suite—and then the trio headed up to the concourse. Tetsuya should have realized something was amiss when they walked into the suite—complete with a bar, top-shelf appetizers, and comfy seats overlooking the court—and the mostly female population flocked to Seijuro and Ryouta, welcoming them with familiar smiles and kind embraces. 

“Hmm, Ryouta baby. Haven’t seen you here in a few weeks,” a girl in a jacket and short skirt—Jasmine—said, smacking Ryouta in the shoulder. “Don’t tell me you were banned again.”

“Just cray-cray with production,” Ryouta answered in perfect English as he placed a chaste kiss her cheek. “You know how the biz works.”

“Hell yeah,” a woman wearing a pencil skirt—Victoria—laughed. With that amount of make-up and skin showing, she was most likely a model. “My agent has been running me ragged these days, too, but what’s your excuse, Sei?”

“Meetings. My father believes I need to attend every single one he holds, despite its relevance to my education.” Seijuro’s lips lifted into a charmed smile, one that always won over every female in a fifty-foot radius. 

“Sei, Ryouta, who is that silent cutie hiding behind you?”

He sometimes missed his weak presence, though other than that one girl, everyone seemed a little shocked by his “sudden appearance.” Ryouta reacted first, wrapping an encouraging arm about Tetsuya’s shoulders. 

“This is Kurokocchi!”

“Tetsuya Akashi,” Seijuro interjected with a tiny laugh. “My little brother.”

“By fourteen minutes,” Tetsuya replied with a hint of annoyance. 

“Younger is younger, dear brother.”

“Well, aren’t you just adorable! Come here!” Victoria pounced, taking him by the hand to present him to the awaiting flock of eye candy. “Everyone, this is…Tetsu…ya?” 

“Hai.”

“Hai? Oh, that means yes, right?” Once he nodded, she beamed at the group. “Everyone, this is Tetsuya. Tetsuya, this is Jasmine, DeShawn’s wife, and that’s Becca. She’s Charlie’s girlfriend…” She rattled off each woman and man’s name and connection with the Brooklyn Nets’ team—or so Tetsuya assumed—before Jasmine grabbed his hand and asked, “If you’re here with Sei and Ryouta, you must know Taiga. You here on his allotment?”

Taiga’s allotment of tickets? 

When one of the girls chastised Jasmine and mentioned his history as Taiga’s teammate, Tetsuya sought his brother’s eyes, which looked anything but remorseful. Tetsuya’s head immediately swung toward the basketball court, eyes glancing over the rows of seats to see the teams warming up. 

The Nets and the Knicks. 

They were in the private suite of the Knicks’ players with their wives and parents and significant others. 

Tetsuya wished he could run before his stomach tingled, his cheeks flushed, and his heart pounded like the teenager he was—but then it all happened simultaneously, overwhelming his senses, as he watched a familiar figure on the court—all muscles and American rudeness—receive the ball from a point guard that wasn’t Tetsuya and slam it home, so loudly that Tetsuya imagined the reverberations two levels up. 

He really, really wanted a Kagami jersey to wear, even though he stood, engulfed in Taiga’s old sweatshirt that smelled of vanilla and subway. 

Seijuro stole him from the wives’ clutches and offered him a vanilla latte. “He doesn’t know you’re here, if you’re wondering. I told him one of Ryouta’s costars wanted to see the game.”

“Aniki and Ryouta-kun are devious.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“We’re going to see him after the game. You should come.”

Tetsuya narrowed his eyes, then descended the suite stairs to take a seat. “It would not be wise. I’m rooting for the Nets.”

Despite his new-found hatred for basketball and the unwanted butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Tetsuya watched the game so intensely that his latte went cold before he took his first sip. He forgot how much he enjoyed watching Taiga play—his raw enthusiasm, his undeniable talent, and his competitive spirit. Taiga was always entertaining. 

The crowd agreed. After every one of his dunks, they growled like tigers. Some even dressed up like ones, dancing in the aisles or throwing around balls. More than a few girls wore tiger ears and tails. After the Knicks scored their tenth point in a row—Taiga’s eighth—the crowd began to chant his name, ending it with growling of sort. And Taiga fed upon the cheers, jumping higher and impressing evermore. 

God, he missed Taiga, and being this close to him physically hurt in ways Tetsuya never knew were possible. 

He shouldn’t have come, and he silently cursed his brother and Ryouta in ways he couldn’t accurately articulate, either. So he settled on sending them threatening glares the few times he tore his eyes away from the game.

The Knicks won easily by more than thirty, and when Seijuro and Ryouta headed down to thank Taiga for the tickets, Tetsuya took his brother’s credit card to buy his latest obsession—a Kagami jersey. 

He waited by the VIP entrance of the arena, leaning against one of the light poles, glancing over the recaps of the game and smiling as one of the journalists likened one of Taiga’s dunks to a tiger’s pounce. If anything, he felt relaxed, more so than he had in a long time. Taiga obviously hadn’t severed all his ties with their group, seeing Seijuro and Ryouta at least regularly, and he gave an all-star performance. 

Like Tetsuya knew he would, Taiga belonged in the NBA. He’d done right by Taiga last year, even if he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully recover, even though he missed Taiga terribly, more than nine months later. 

“Tetsu?”

Tetsuya’s heart stopped, and he wanted to ignore the heartfelt beckon. He wanted to pretend that he hadn’t heard and head straight for the subway, but his suddenly frozen feet wouldn’t let him because there stood Kagami Taiga, beloved basketball player, looking freaking amazing in a black suit with a loose red tie as he called out to Tetsuya. 

“It _is_ you,” Taiga breathed, white clouds puffing out his mouth, an unconscious smile finding his lips as he exited the arena doors. His attention diverted to the reporters, offering them an absent greeting, before he smiled at Tetsuya again. “I thought I saw you up in the suite with Sei and Ryouta.”

Whom Tetsuya wanted to beat at that moment. 

Tetsuya forcibly took a breath, then another, to make sure he was still alive, then gave a tiny bow of welcome. Taiga, of course, would not have it and engulfed him in a massive hug. His forest of hair was damp from a recent shower, and though he lacked his usual grease smell, a strong scent of pine infiltrated Tetsuya’s nose. 

And he was warm, so warm. 

“Hai. I didn’t know you’d be playing when Ryouta invited us.”

When Taiga released him, Taiga’s smile grew, apparently from Tetsuya’s unconscious slip into Japanese. He returned the language in kind. “So you’re still avoiding me, huh? It’s been almost a year, Tetsu.”

“Aniki invited you for Christmas.”

“You weren’t going to show anyway.”

 _Touché._ “Shin-kun and Kazu-kun had already invited me for the holidays. It would have been rude to cancel.”

“So what’re you doing in New York then?”

 _I honestly don’t know anymore._ “My father opened his new division here just last month. I’m helping him and Aniki train the new employees and network with the city’s business elite.”

Taiga laughed. “And you said you have no sense of humor.”

Tetsuya waited, his blank stare an answer all its own. 

A dark scowl of disapproval swept across Taiga’s usually bright face. “Why? I thought you decided to let Sei handle the family business.”

“I was negligent. I should be aware of my family’s responsibilities and help in kind.”

“Bullshit. Your father doesn’t even remember you exist half the time, and you’d be better off in the company’s daycare than its boardroom. And Tatsuya told me you left the Bruins mid-season. What’s up with that, Tetsu? Why are you running away from everything you love?”

Tetsuya heard the unspoken _including me._

_Because I can’t have you._ “We are no longer children playing a game, Kagami-kun. It was your destiny to play basketball professionally, and it is my destiny to work for my father. We cannot run from our respective paths anymore.”

Taiga smiled, forced but kind. “Y’know, you’re in America now. There’s this thing here called the American Dream, which pretty much says you can be anything you want to be. You can make your own destiny.”

“Don’t tell Shin-kun that.”

They both smiled with the private joke, but it was somewhat sad and heavy. “I miss you,” Taiga said suddenly, “and your big scary furball.”

Tetsuya took a breath and then another. Yep, still alive. “I miss Kagami-kun, too, but he’s charmed a whole city in my absence.”

“It was easy. A few dunks, a few gourmet meals. I know what they like.”

The smile came easy now. “Kagami-kun has become a romantic.”

“My charms worked on you long before I came to New York.”

“Kagami-kun has the most amazing guns.”

Taiga flexed one of his arms; his muscles easily pressed through two layers of clothing. “They’re even more amazing now.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. “I saw.”

It was easy, too easy to fall back into their old pattern, teasing one another, knowing what would draw a laugh, a smile, and a kiss, but Tetsuya wouldn’t dare. In fact, he wondered where Seijuro and Ryouta were. He needed someone here to pull him away before he fell again, impossibly deep, and hoped for something he shouldn’t. 

But at some time during their separation, Taiga went and became the responsible one of them. “You look good, Tetsu. _Really_ good, though you let all my hard work go to waste. You’re pale again.”

Tetsuya allowed one of his private smiles to overtake his face. Taiga used to enjoy finding ways to spend time outside, just to see the new dark shades of Tetsuya’s usually light skin. Once, he’d managed to keep Tetsuya on the beach by tiring him out with a few bouts of underwater ministrations. 

Taiga tugged him from the blissful memory with a cold splash of reality. “How’s the wrist?”

The reason they were apart. So Taiga was thinking the same thing as him but subtly reminded him they weren’t together and they couldn’t hope to be again.

Just under Taiga’s open collar, Tetsuya spied the sparkle of Taiga’s necklace, and he hopelessly wondered if two rings hung from it. 

But he kept a straight face as he stopped himself from flexing his wrist. “Healing. The surgery was successful last June, and I started physical therapy in October. The therapist told me to wear a soft cast when not training to keep from re-injuring it.”

“How long until you’re healed completely?” 

Tetsuya shrugged. “A year was the estimate, but the doctor is optimistic I’ll regain full motion.”

“That’s good, Tetsu. I’m glad.”

A dark emotion Tetsuya couldn’t quite read crossed Taiga’s face, and it unnerved him. He could always read Taiga’s thoughts and expressions. _Always._ But this one looked almost like…guilt? What did Taiga have to feel guilty about?

His eyes shook, but Taiga glanced away before Tetsuya could fully discern what had Taiga so distraught. He seemed to fight within himself, fists gripping and uncurling, before he finally decided to meet Tetsuya’s eyes again and open his mouth. 

“Tetsu, I—”

“Taiga, my man! There you are! Your friends told me you left already.” 

Tetsuya was pretty sure that was the moment he stopped breathing—when the dark-skinned, chiseled, Adonis of a basketball player jogged up behind Taiga, dressed in a skin-tight black shirt, maroon overcoat, and pristine jeans. He appeared older than Taiga by at least a handful of years— _experienced, worldly,_ his mind thought traitorously, and his genuine smile was enchanting, almost as much as Taiga’s himself. His hair was rolled in dreadlocks and pulled back in a tail, perfect for sinking fingers into during a heated kiss. 

He tried not to imagine Taiga doing that, but then the man grabbed Taiga in a one-arm hug, undeniably familiar and comfortable. 

“Danny,” Taiga interjected, peeved, but didn’t knock his arm off. “Tetsu and I were in the middle of something.”

“Oh, yeah?” Danny blinked, noticing Tetsuya for the first time, and if possible, his smile grew wider. “Oh, my God! Hey, man! Tetsuya Akashi, right? Dude, I’ve been trying to get this big lug to give me your number forever.”

To gloat? The proffered hand offended Tetsuya in so many ways, but he managed a traditional bow. “I cannot imagine why.”

“Why? More like, why not? You’re the best point guard in the NCAA! The way you led UCLA, even once you couldn’t dribble was just—”

“Danny, can you give us a minute?” Taiga asked, curt. 

Danny glanced at Tetsuya, questioning, before looking back at Taiga. His hand slowly uncurled from Taiga’s shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Of course, man. I’ll just wait for you over there.”

He walked out of hearing distance, waiting at the entrance of the subway and scrolling through his phone. Tetsuya watched the tension bleed from Taiga’s shoulders, and when he raised his eyes, nothing but remorse shone in the dark irises. 

“Sorry about that, Tetsu. Danny doesn’t have an off-switch, and—”

“It’s fine, Kagami-kun.” It wasn’t. “Perhaps you should have gotten him a filter.”

A brief, tight smile fluttered across Taiga’s face as he remembered their first conversation when they landed in L.A. more than a year ago. “Maybe. Look, take care of yourself, all right? And keep in touch. Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean that we can’t, y’know, talk and stuff.”

Had that ever worked for anyone? “Of course. You know my number, though I do request you not share it with Danny-san.”

Taiga laughed then. He always laughed when Tetsuya added Japanese titles to American names. “Yeah. No worries. He’s a parasite, but he’s not—hey…is that my sweatshirt?” He poked his finger through the hole at the bottom, near the hem where Nigou bit to keep Taiga from being hit by a car. “I was wondering where I left this.”

Tetsuya clung to the front where the hood attached to the neck, though he managed to spat, “Would you like it back?” 

“Nah. Keep it. On one condition.” His smile reached his eyes as he walked backwards toward Danny, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Don’t give up.”

Tetsuya’s eyes rounded. “Eh?”

Taiga stopped. “You used to love basketball, and remember that time all the schools ran a clinic? You loved teaching those kids how to play. I’d hate for you to lose everything you love, Tetsu.”

Tetsuya clasped his wrist; his bag dangled back and forth on his good one. “I don’t see any light on the court anymore, Kagami-kun.”

“Then shine, Tetsu.”

A humorless laugh escaped him. “I’m just a shadow.”

“You never have been to me.” 

Silence reigned, or at least, all the sounds of the bustling city drowned in Tetsuya’s shock. Lazy snowflakes floated through the dark cityscape. 

In a whispered confession, Tetsuya admitted, “I was too dim, Kagami-kun. Too slow. You left me behind.”

“I said that, didn’t I? But I don’t think I did.” Taiga rubbed the back of his neck and turned toward Danny, who sighed rudely loud for what seemed like the fifth time. “I was lighting the way, y’know? You’re my shadow. Isn’t it your job to follow?”

Tetsuya blinked. 

“You’ve always been a supporting actor. Even last year, you shone but only when I couldn’t. You’ve always valued your own basketball less than other players, and _our_ basketball suffered. _You_ suffered. But now it’s just you and the ball, Tetsu. There’s no one to pass to. What are you going to do?” Taiga shook his head like a disgruntled cat and amended, “What do you want to do?”

Before Tetsuya could decide, Taiga glanced back Danny, who pretended not to look absolutely bored, and then clasped Tetsuya on the shoulder. “Look, I gotta go, but think about what I said, okay? And keep in touch. I mean it. There’s no one else I can speak to about _Ouran Host Club_ and not sound like a dork.”

“You’re still a dork, Kagami-kun. And I’ve never thought otherwise.”

“Bastard,” Taiga laughed. 

He waved then and hit Danny on the shoulder with his own as he passed. They headed off, chatting and laughing in English, their voices lowering until Tetsuya could no longer hear them. The cold air eventually seeped into his sweatshirt, feeding off of his once warm skin until he felt numb all over. 

So many emotions swept through him. He lost Taiga to a man named “Danny.” Taiga still believed in him, believed he could reach the highest level in basketball there was. He’d lost Taiga to a guy named _Danny._ He missed playing. He missed his educational classes. He missed Saturday streetball tournaments and late-night dinners, and surprise vanilla lattes just because. 

He lost Taiga. 

Too engrossed in his own thoughts, Tetsuya didn’t hear Ryouta arrive until the taller man caught him in a one-arm death grip. “Kurokocchi!”

Seijuro arrived at a more leisurely pace, though he stood ready to save his little brother if need be. 

Only, Ryouta’s warmth and devotion helped to thaw Tetsuya from his shocked state. Tetsuya wasn’t sure how to move forward, but he saw a light, just on the edge of his vision, still burning brightly, teasing him with a scrap of hope. 

Less than three weeks ago, Kazunari asked him what would make him happy. Today, Taiga asked what he wanted to do. 

At the moment, he knew one thing. He wanted to have fun. 

“Ryouta-kun?” he asked in a determined beckon. 

“‘eh, Kurokocchi?”

“Would you like to play basketball with me again?”

Tetsuya wasn’t sure what happened after that, only that when he awoke, Seijuro knelt over him, eyes wide and relieved before he turned to the trembling Ryouta. One of his eyes shimmered yellow. 

_To Be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_
> 
>  
> 
> “Nigou,” Tetsuya warned, foot tapping against the floor. “That doesn’t belong to you.”
> 
> Nigou cocked his head to the side, as if not understanding. 
> 
> “Do not play dumb, Nigou. You know that’s mine.”
> 
> When Nigou ignored him and laid down, Tetsuya sighed and decided to compromise. “Okay, Nigou. You either have Taiga’s jersey or his sweatshirt. You can’t have both.”
> 
> But Nigou refused to move, wearing the Kagami jersey Tetsuya brought in New York as he rested upon Taiga’s UCLA sweatshirt. When Tetsuya ducked to grab the jersey, Nigou let out a growl, sounding very much like Taiga did when Tetsuya tried to wake him up for morning classes. 
> 
> "Fine, then. No more cheeseburgers for - "
> 
> Nigou immediately jumped off the sweatshirt, and Tetsuya nodded to himself. _Like father, like son._


	9. 369 Days (Okay, So Maybe Tetsuya is Counting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so late, guys. Been a crazy month. Next chapter is the climax, and then we have an epilogue (the latter which I still have yet to write). Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

“All right! All right!” Daiki swung open his front door with a murderous growl. “Who the hell is banging on my door at freaking five in the—Tetsu?”

The last thing he expected to see was his best friend on his stoop, knees tucked, hands flat upon the ground, and head bowed in a perfect Dogeza stance. 

“Tetsu…” he breathed, taking an involuntary step back. “What are you—?”

“I’ve come to formally plead to Daiki-kun.”

“Get up, dumbass. You don’t have—just get up.” Daiki bent down to wrench Tetsuya to his feet when he initially struggled. “Come on, stop that. What could you possibly need to ask me for? And weren’t you just—”

“My father refuses to pay my college tuition now that I have refused the family business twice.” 

Oh. 

Tetsuya stepped to the side to catch Daiki’s unsteady eyes. “The check is due today, and I won’t be able to procure financial aid in time. That means I’ll be kicked off the team until—”

“You could have just asked. Geez.” Daiki retreated into his condo and immediately sought his cell phone, where he’d left it on the living room coffee table. “How much is it?”

Tetsuya told him. 

Daiki snorted. “You realize I make more than that every time I step on the court, don’t you?”

“Yes. That is why I came to Daiki-kun.”

“Not Ryouta, eh?” Daiki’s smile teased as he hit the first contact in his phone. “He’d make you pay him back in smothering hugs, huh?”

“Ryouta-kun would make me pay him back.”

That surprised a hearty laugh from Daiki before a loud shriek cut him off. He held the phone away from his ear until the scolding died down. 

“Morning, Satsuki!” he greeted brightly, just to get another rise out of her. When she finally tired again, he replied, “I need two pretty big checks…No, I don’t want another car. I already have three—I just brought you one for Christmas! Why are you—It’s for Tetsu’s tuition. Yeah. His dad’s a major douche, y’know? So I need you to write a check to UCLA. The other just write out to Tetsu. Ow!” Daiki jumped back, holding his side. “What the hell? You gotta eat, and you ain’t taking the leftovers out of my frig.”

Tetsuya glanced away, if only to hide the tears that suddenly swelled in his eyes, before covering them with a quick laugh. “I am grateful Daiki-kun does not wish to kill me with his poisonous cooking.”

“Oi! Come here, you little bastard! I’m gonna kick your ass for that!”

*^*^* 

The sound of a lone basketball slamming against the wooden floor shocked Tatsuya, who was usually the first player to practice. He always wanted to get a good thirty to forty shots in before the rest of the team joined for drills and conditioning, and last year, the only other ones to join him early were Taiga and—

Tetsuya currently dribbled up the court with his uninjured left hand, strengthening the muscles he could. Sweat drenched his shirt down to belly button, as if he’d been training for quite some time, and when he turned, facing Tatsuya, the older player decided to have some fun and chuck the ball. Tetsuya deflected it at the last possible a second, a perfect pass to Tatsuya’s favorite spot on the three-point line. 

Since Tatsuya still stood at half-court, the ball bounced away, eventually stopping by the stands. 

Tetsuya huffed, out of breath, and gestured toward the hoop. “You missed.”

Tatsuya couldn’t help the wide grin that overtook his face. “Welcome back.”

Tetsuya returned it. “Thanks.”

“AKASHI!” Coach Johnson’s voice blared throughout the empty arena. “Have you been cleared by the team doctors?”

Tetsuya pivoted toward the approaching coach and bowed an appropriate height. “Hai. For conditioning.”

“Good! Then you owe me 1,165 laps. Don’t think I haven’t been counting. Now stop shooting the breeze with Himuro and get moving! I want those done by the end of the week.”

“…H-Hai.”

*^*^*

The messages began to appear a little after practice, during dinner with Daiki, who didn’t have a game that day; Satsuki, who took business management and financial courses to be Daiki’s personal manager; Seijuro and Reo, who had come down from San Francisco to celebrate; Tatsuya and Atsushi, who took him straight from practice with a promise for a vanilla shake; Ryouta, who was in the process of settling back into the L.A. scene; and Shintarou and Kazunari, who were out searching for a new place to live and meeting with USC recruiters. 

In the backroom of their favorite sports joint—the owner knew Daiki and valued his privacy—Tetsuya laughed as loud as he ever did when Ryouta surprised Daiki from behind, sending his chicken wing soaring into Shintarou’s glasses. The smudges prevented Shintarou from shooting the offending food accurately back at Daiki, and he legitimately missed for the first time in years. The wing knocked over Seijuro’s root beer, spraying the nearby French fries with the new flavor. 

Kazunari picked them up and offered them to the group. “Beer-battered fries anyone?”

Tetsuya’s phone blipped a second later with a new Tweet. He’d answered a few throughout the day—former teammates, friends, a few from the fans on campus, but one in particular showed up followed by a barrage of birthday greetings. 

**Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
HB 2 @iamshadow! hope you get all the vanilla cake lattes and shakes u want! 

The subsequent texts were all from Taiga’s followers, recounting his championship a year ago and offering their own kind wishes, but Tetsuya only cared for the original message, unable to suppress the unconscious smile that brightened his features. 

**Akashi Tetsuya** @iamshadow  
Thank you, @eyeofthetigher, but @brightestlight is here. We’ll all be lucky to get any cake. 

**Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
@iamshadow if u don’t get any ill send you a cake from @CarlosBakery #yumyum

 **Akashi Tetsuya** @iamshadow  
@eyeofthetiger That is unnecessary. We didn’t celebrate your birthday last year. 

**Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
@iamshadow s’okay I was overseas anyway with my dad. Got real german chocolate cake. :) #therealdeal #cakeeater

 **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
@eyeofthetiger @iamshadow tetsu stop smiling like an idiot it’s creeping me out #getaroom

 **Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
@brightestlight @iamshadow Shut up. u didn’t get me a present #cheapass

 **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
@eyeofthetiger @iamshadow u didn’t get me 1 either #stillbrighter

 **Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
@brightestlight @iamshadow my b-day is first! #no1inpoints

 **Carlo’s Bakery** @CarlosBakery  
@eyeofthetiger We’re UCLA fans! We’d love to send @iamshadow a cake for his birthday! On the house. DM us with the address. #happybirthday

 **Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
@iamshadow ill buy you a vanilla latte next time im in la #happybirthday

 **Akashi Tetsuya** @iamshadow  
@eyeofthetiger Domo. And I’ll buy you a double chocolate chip frappe. #happybelatedbirthday

 **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
@eyeofthetiger @iamshadow u aint getin anything from me #cheapass 

When Tetsuya looked up and shoved his phone in his pocket, Daiki rolled his eyes and cut himself another piece of cake. “Seriously. Wipe that stupid smile off your face. It’s not like you’re getting laid tonight or anything.”

“Daiki-kun speaks from experience.”

“God. You and Taiga deserve each other. You’re both assholes.”

*^*^*

Taiga returned to the West Coast for a three-game road trip the same weekend of the Pac-12 tournament, which took the Bruins, and by extension Tetsuya, to Las Vegas that weekend. The game versus Oregon was hard fought, though the score didn’t reflect the Bruins’ effort. They lost by more than twenty, which stung Tetsuya, even though he couldn’t play. Despite their horrible record, a tournament win would have vaulted the Bruins into the March Madness bracket, but instead, the team went home on an almost silent plane. 

Tatsuya sat next to Tetsuya, sighing with purpose. “I’m a senior next year.”

Tetsuya heard the real meaning. 

_It’s my last year of competitive ball._

Tatsuya was good, perhaps even great, and Tetsuya sure thought of him as extraordinary. But only a few NBA teams sought his talent and fewer welcomed him to their scouting camps. He hadn’t entered the draft yet because no one seemed willing to take a chance on him, and Tatsuya wasn’t ready for the disappointment. He hoped to grow and showcase his talent in front of fans and scouts alike in the tournaments, to prove his worth to potential recruiters. This year, he failed. 

Next year, he wouldn’t. Tetsuya wouldn’t allow it. 

He nodded and gripped Tatsuya’s hand. “You will shine next year, Tatsuya-san. I will make sure of it.”

Tatsuya’s own reserved smile seemed more jovial than usual. “You sound pretty confident.”

Tetsuya unlocked his phone and began to scroll through his messages—from fans, from friends, from family. “I see the light. Now, I just have to find my basketball again.”

A pause. “It went with Taiga, didn’t it?”

“It was our basketball, so it was free for him to take,” Tetsuya replied with a careless shrug. “I’ll find my own before next season, Tatsuya-san, and then we’ll take the tournament just like we did last year.”

Despite his uncertain demeanor, Tatsuya’s smile returned easily with his gentle disposition. “My brother seriously doesn’t deserve you.”

Tetsuya froze, startled by the sharp stinging in his chest. “Kagami-kun does not have me. I let him go.”

“Taiga is in the NBA, Tetsu,” Tatsuya rebuked as if speaking to a wondering child, “and he’s living a very good life in New York City where he’s beloved by fans and sportscasters alike. He’s routinely on Sportscenter and talk shows, and where he might have been a quasi-freak in Tokyo due to his brash nature and pointlessly large body, he’s worshiped here. That’s because of you.”

“Kagami-kun’s talent has nothing to do with—”

“You fostered that talent. You and your crazy passes and unconventional skill and your own talent—or lack thereof. You stayed a step behind Taiga to make him the star he is today, and when he wanted to shy away from potentially the best job offer he was ever going to get, you shoved him toward it. And he knows that, Tetsu. He knows all you did for him.”

Tetsuya never scoffed—it was rude—but he came close. “You should not devalue your brother’s talent or hard work, Tatsuya-san. Kagami-kun deserves all that has come to him.”

“Y’know what truly bothers him?” Tatsuya laid his head upon his sweatshirt and fidgeted until he found a comfortable position while Tetsuya waited as patiently as he could, desperately wanting to hear Tatsuya’s next words but dreading them all the same. “You love basketball more than anything, and you were willing to give yours up for him. You _gave_ it up for him. Do you know what that’s like— having someone who loves you so much, that they’re willing to give up the most precious part of themselves—for you?”

It wasn’t like that…was it?

“Atsushi loves me, but there’s no way he would give up whip cream for me,” Tatsuya laughed, eyes already closed. “Perhaps butter cream but certainly not whip cream.”

Tatsuya fell silent after that, but Tetsuya remained awake, head back against the seat, his phone resting limply in his hand. He’d never thought about it as giving up a part of himself. So many decisions had come so easily to him—changing his basketball, coming to America, studying English, playing for UCLA—the hardest thing had always been to let Taiga go. Not even deciding to leave the Bruins and head to New York had been so difficult. 

But Taiga was in New York. Huh. Seijuro was annoyingly right after all. 

Taiga had given him so much. When his best friends and even his own brother left him behind, Taiga came and helped him win them back, one by one. With Seijuro all the way in Kyoto, Taiga had taken him in, entwined their lives, and with the other Miracles, created a family not of blood but of bonds, of sweat, and of basketball. 

Of course, Taiga’s father had been in America at the time, so he, too, had no one in Tokyo. It was almost kismet how they came together, but Taiga was so strong and so kind. He would have found someone else—Tetsuya grimaced. Taiga had found someone else, but Tetsuya would always be grateful to Taiga for giving him a home and for returning his family to him. 

Even though it was years ago, Tetsuya still remembered the loneliness he held after Teikou, the quiet dinners with his father and the curt emails from his brother. He still remembered Daiki’s sneers and Atsushi’s mutters, and though he would never forget, the phantom pain no longer _hurt_ , not when he thought of Taiga’s warm hold and the nights they spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. 

Taiga had saved his life that first year in Seirin. Didn’t anyone else see that?

Tetsuya’s phone vibrated with a new Tweet alert, and he glanced down at the message illuminated on the home screen. 

**Kagami Taiga** @eyeofthetiger  
@iamshadow you need a strong inside #themoreyouknow

Though Taiga meant UCLA’s under-the-basket players, Tetsuya needed more than that. He missed Taiga with the emotional equivalent of a hurricane, and he wanted nothing more than to retreat into that massive chest and find the warmth he craved. 

But his basketball—perhaps he, himself—always relied on others. Even now, Daiki paid for his living expenses and college. Before he could ask Taiga’s forgiveness, he needed to stand on his own and be worthy of the man he had come to need so fervently. 

**Akashi Tetsuya** @iamshadow  
@eyeofthetiger I’m working on it. #truestory

*^*^*

Regaining his playing shape took months. Tetsuya practiced with the team as allowed by the doctors, then spent the rest of the time conditioning—suicides, laps, jumps—before the Pac-12 tournament. Afterwards, he woke up at dawn and ran miles about the UCLA campus with Nigou before staying at Daiki’s shore apartment and jogging on the beach for the greater resistance. 

Taiga and the Knicks blasted into the playoffs that April with a 65-17 record. Likewise, the Lakers headed into the playoffs third in their conference, so Tetsuya stole the keys to Daiki’s condo and decided to host playoff parties for their friends.

The Knicks and Lakers started their battles on the same night, but due to the time difference, they played back-to-back. Tatsuya, Atsushi, and Ryouta took the couch while Reo sat in one of Daiki’s recliners. Seijuro and he took the floor in front of the coffee table where snacks heaped on top of snacks, though Tetsuya seriously doubted if they had enough to last both games. Satsuki went to the arena with Daiki as per usual, helping to steady him before such an important game, and Tetsuya vaguely wondered if Danny did the same for Taiga. 

Fighting off the all-too-righteous guilt, Tetsuya shot off a message to Taiga. 

**Akashi Tetsuya** @iamshadow  
@eyeofthetiger ::fisted hand sign::

Taiga took the court a few minutes later, so Tetsuya shook off the non-reply. Taiga probably had been getting last-minute pointers from the coach or talking to Danny or anything but checking his phone. His back held the hopes and dreams of eight million people. He definitely had better things to do than answer a tweet from his ex, though apparently his Twitter followers didn’t. Many fist-bumped Tetsuya back. 

It wasn’t Daiki all over again, Tetsuya told himself. Taiga wouldn’t do that to him. 

Snatching his vanilla milkshake, Tetsuya brought his legs to his chest and leaned back against the couch, right under Ryouta’s crossed legs. The older blond ruffled his locks as he reached for a handful of French fries. 

“Don’t worry, Kurokocchi. I’m sure Kagamicchi misses you, too.”

When had the others begun to read him so well? “Thank you, Ryouta-kun, but Taiga-kun has more important matters ahead of him.”

“We will see, Tetsuya,” Seijuro replied with an unhealthy dose of foreboding, and Tetsuya wondered what his brother knew that he didn’t. 

It only took a few precious seconds after the game began for Tetsuya to find out. The Knicks’ center snatched the ball out of mid-air and threw it to his point guard. The guard sent it forward to Taiga, who missed an almost wide-open lay-up. Tetsuya sat up instantly, almost dropping his milkshake in the process and completely missing the troubled expression his brother sent him. 

The game got progressively worse for the Knicks. Though the team worked well on the floor, moving the ball and getting open shots, Taiga couldn’t connect. He missed hook shots he always nailed. He lost every battle under the boards, even defensive ones, and when he posted up, his opponent easily swiped the ball. 

It only took until the five-minute mark of the first quarter for the announcers to start using words like “choke” and “dethrone.” One even went so far as to say, “The ball is definitely not in Kagami’s court tonight.”

“Well, he’s certainly dropping the ball.”

They laughed, like they weren’t watching Taiga self-destruct on live TV, like they hadn’t just talked to Taiga before the game in a good-natured interview. They were friends—or at the very least colleagues. How could they treat Kagami’s troublesome play with casual banter? 

Reo tasseled Seijuro’s hair with a thoughtful hum. “I haven’t seen a player collapse this embarrassingly since Sei-chan during that first Winter Cup final.”

“Thank you for that unwanted reminder, Reo.”

“At least you grew your hair long again. I wasn’t fond of the short bangs.” For emphasis, he gently tugged on them. 

Another failed connection, a lost rebound, a blocked shot—Taiga moved like he was back in the first half of that Winter Cup, feet stuck in quick sand, unable to break free. 

Despite Taiga’s play, the Knicks finished the half only down by fifteen.

Tetsuya clutched his cell phone during half-time, watching, waiting, hoping that Taiga would reply to him, if not on Twitter then by text or Skype or anything. But nothing came through, and when the Knicks took to the court for the second half, Taiga sat on the bench. 

*^*^*

“Taiga, you all but collapsed early in the first half of the game, and in the second, you barely got off the bench. Can you tell us what happened?”

“Just wasn’t my night.”

“Orlando played you with a strict double team, similar to how they played you in the regular season. What did they do differently to stop you this game?”

“Nothing, really. My shots just weren’t falling.”

“What do you plan to differently tomorrow night?”

“Make my shots.”

“How about rebounds?”

“Yeah. A guess a few of those would help, too.”

“Some people are saying your early success in the NBA was attributed to your fresh play and unique moves you learned in Japan. How do you respond?”

“I don’t. My NCAA title last year does it for me.”

“Some attribute your tournament success to your partner from UCLA, Tetsuya Akashi. His cool head and smooth moves complemented your aggressive play, which helped the Bruins sweep March Madness last year.”

“Sounds about right.”

“So does that mean you won’t be able to lead the Knicks to a league championship this year?” 

Taiga sighed, leaning back against his locker with only a towel wrapped around his waist and a wet T-shirt clinging to his sculpted torso. Reporters and cameras surrounded him like a flock of hunger lions, awaiting his answer. 

When he spoke, his voice sounded exasperated. “It’s only Game One, guys. I had a bad night. It happens, y’know? Let’s see what tomorrow night brings.”

*^*^*

The next game landed on a weeknight, not allowing Seijuro or Reo to attend the party. Kise’s agent accosted him earlier that day for a few last modeling contracts, and Satsuki attended Daiki’s second game. Tetsuya declined to join her in the family box, offering studying for the impeding finals as an excuse. In reality, he huddled about his iPad with Nigou pressed against his side, wishing his dog’s warmth was Taiga’s. But Taiga was in New York, rebounding from his epic failure with perhaps the best game of his career. 

Taiga dominated the paint, acting like a reckless, defiant prince ready to capture a premature crown. Whatever had shaken him last game was gone, but so was his challenging smile. Instead, he treated the game like the profession it was instead of the unending thrill it always had been. 

Tetsuya’s heart beat in an uneasy rhythm as something cold and heavy ached in his chest. And he was stupid. And selfish. And a hundred other loathsome adjectives. He wanted Taiga to win. He wanted Taiga to thrive in the NBA, and he’d let Taiga go to do just that.

Then why he did hurt watching Taiga succeed? What had he been hoping? That Taiga still needed him by his side, still wanted him there? Of course that wasn’t true, if Taiga’s insanely strong dunk said differently, resounding throughout the arena before the rabid fans shot to their feet and cheered. 

If the ignored fist-pump said anything.

Nigou whined and rubbed his snout against Tetsuya’s hand until Tetsuya stroked the top of his head, letting out a tired sigh. “I agree, Nigou. Taiga-kun is remarkable. No one is his equal.”

_And I let him go._

Or he tried. He’d learned in one of his psychology courses that high school sweethearts have a special place in a person’s heart, but Taiga was different. He’d found something with Taiga that most people searched a lifetime to find, and he managed to on the first day of high school. And now he was forced to spend the rest of his life missing the other half of his soul, knowing what he had given up. 

Because he would never be able to let go, even if Taiga had.

*^*^*

The Knicks took the next four games, winning the quarterfinals four games to one. They moved onto the semifinals against the Boston Celtics, and the series was a long battle to six games before Kagami slammed down the final dunk to send the Knicks into the Eastern Conference Finals. 

Tetsuya stopped watching every game, though he checked the box scores, and deep into their respective finals—even Atsushi had to practice baking several different type of crème puffs—no one could meet to watch the games together. Tetsuya preferred that, so Ryouta wouldn’t point out how he checked his phone every five minutes, looking for a Twitter reply that would never come, and Seijuro wouldn’t send him those quiet but somehow reproachful expressions, reminding him that he had made the biggest mistake of his life 396 days ago. (Okay, so maybe he was counting.)

He managed to go a whole week without knowing the outcome of the first four games of the Eastern Conference finals when he received a bewildering tweet from @dannylovessports. 

**Danny Manderson** @dannylovessports  
Hey there @iamshadow! May I treat you to a vanilla latte and a scone?

Tetsuya blinked as he already stood in line at the Starbucks on the UCLA campus. How did this Danny Manderson know? Glancing about the café, Tetsuya spotted a dark-skinned Greek god waving at him from a table along the far wall. Once the man made eye contact, he held up a venti cup and a bag with the aforementioned scone.

Tetsuya kept his face as blank as ever as he begrudgingly made his way across the café to stand before the newcomer, but before he could speak, Danny accosted, “ ‘ey, Tetsu! May I call you Tetsu? Sit down, man, and let’s chat.”

“I hope you’ll excuse me,” Tetsu replied, sharp but not bitter. “I have a psychology final this afternoon.”

“I’m sure you have five minutes, just enough time for me to pull your head out of your ass.”

Tetsuya blinked. He was not expecting _that._ “My apologies, Danny-san, but I do not believe I understand this American custom.”

Danny leaned forward now, all pretense of civility gone from his face. “It’s simple. Sit down, shut up, and listen to what I have to say. And you get a free latte and scone out of it.”

Against his better judgment, against his wish to “crush” this person, as Atsushi would do, Tetsuya sat but not without claiming the latte and scone. 

Not surprisingly, Danny’s offensively bright smile returned. “So here’s the lowdown, Tetsu. I’ve known my man Taiga since he was a tot shooting baskets with Tats on the streets of L.A. Before he even met Alex, dude was the best dog I’d ever seen with a ball, and the only thing I have ever seen that can fuck with that is you. Well, you and Tats, really, but Tats ain’t doing nothing to fuck with Taiga now.”

Tetsu took the vanilla latte and sipped, trying to calm the sudden rapid beating of his heart. He hoped his hand wasn’t shaking, but thankfully, his voice didn’t when he spoke again. “I haven’t spoken to Taiga in over a month.”

“Yeah, I know. And that’s the problem.” Danny broke off a third of the scone, munching on it when he talked. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t give a shit. But you need to fix it or he’ll crash and burn so hard he might not recover.”

“He’s in the Eastern Conference Championships. I do not believe that constitutes as a ‘crash and burn.’”

“You haven’t been watching, have you?” 

Tetsuya took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No.”

“No worries. I figured that may be the case.” He flipped over the cover of an iPad mini and placed the device in front of Tetsuya. “I cued up the most embarrassing parts for you.”

Despite his better judgment, Tetsuya hit the play button. The YouTube video was actually named, “Taiga Kagami Chokes Big Time,” and it showed highlights of the 2016 playoffs. Though the clips bounced around between series and games, Tetsuya watched, feeling his insides slowly twist in a painful cramp, as Taiga went up for dunk and instead of doing his signature double clutch, the basket got blocked by a no-name center. He shot a three-pointer—something he only did well in the zone—and it air-balled. Tetsuya heard the loud thunk against the floor, even on the iPad, through the stunned silence of the arena. He actually cringed—or his equivalent of it—when Taiga went full speed toward the hoop and slammed into the backboard. His nose came away bloody, his eyes dark in a way Tetsuya had never seen them, his cheeks swollen and ugly. 

Tetsuya hit off the video before it finished. “And you think I can change this?”

“I think you caused it.” Danny sat stone-faced, leaning back against his chair. “Your darkness became too great, and he’s being sucked into it.”

“I can’t shine until next October, so I don’t know what you want me to—”

“Peter Pan went to London from Never Never Land to find his shadow.”

“And you’re Peter Pan…?”

“I’m more like Tinker Bell, I think, in this scenario, though I really, _really_ do not look good in tights.” He stood then, lifting a bag onto his shoulder and putting away his iPad. “Unfortunately, I also do not have pixie dust, so I have to get going to make my return flight.”

“Have a nice flight.” He kept the sarcasm mostly from his voice. 

“Oh, I will,” Danny laughed. “I’m flying First Class. I’m going to have a few beers, eat some food that technically has no taste, and watch a few _good_ games. And then, once I land, I’m going and getting a needle and some thread.”

“Why?” Tetsuya looked up from his latte, stopping Danny in mid-step. “You’re with Taiga now. Why did you come here to speak with me?”

Danny’s face twisted into a befuddled frown. “I told you. I’ve known Taiga since he was a kid on the court challenging idiots who thought because he was shorter, they could beat him. I know him better than he knows himself, so that’s how I know when you text him because he gets a stupid grin on his stupid face. I saw how he looked at you all last year, and I saw how he looked when he received that fist-pump tweet you sent more than a month ago.” Danny ruffled the back of his hair. “I’m not asking you to get back together with him. I’m asking you to save him because I think you’re the only one who can.”

*^*^*

The streetball court was unusually empty on a Saturday morning. The warmth of summer rode the gentle breeze, ruffling Tetsuya’s hair like an old friend, but Tetsuya still wore Taiga’s old UCLA sweatshirt, taking solace in its engulfing embrace. It gave him strength and support every time he put it on, and he took off his brace, flexing his fingers and waiting for the pain. 

It didn’t come. 

It’d been gone completely for almost four months now, though the pain began to dwindle the moment he woke after surgery. 

His heartache exacerbated then, when Seijuro appeared next to him, Daiki and Ryouta at the foot of his bed, Tatsuya and Atsuhi waiting with Reo out in the waiting room. Shinatrou and Kazunari kept a running dialogue of texts, asking about his progress. 

Taiga never even called.

At first, Tetsuya started with laps about the court, bouncing the ball between his legs at each corner and enjoying the smooth leather under his fingers before he started wraps—around his head, waist, knees, and then “the world.” He completed figure 8’s, the spider drill, and kills before progressing to two balls. 

He could save Taiga? He was responsible for the abyss that swallowed his one-time partner’s game? How could that be when Taiga didn’t even care enough about him to ask about his injury?

But then again, why would he? 

Tetsuya blazed down the court, wrapping the ball about his back and then sending it bouncing through his legs. 

Tetsuya lied to Taiga for over a month about his injury, and when Taiga begged him to stay, Tetsuya ruthlessly let him go. He retreated to the shadows where he belonged, away from the light and its warmth and kindness. He pushed Taiga into the spotlight alone, where _he_ belonged, and it was the right decision. Even now, Tetsuya believed that. Taiga wouldn’t have went to the NBA any other way, would have been afraid to shine without Tetsuya if they were still together. 

And Taiga shone brighter than anyone, even Daiki. Taiga should be taking the Eastern Conferences by storm and waiting for Daiki to join him in the Finals. 

Why wasn’t he? 

The ball created a lonely staccato rhythm against the asphalt, and despite the crowd that began to gather and watch him as he continued his drills, it remained the only sound on the court. 

Taiga faltered because of a simple tweet Tetsuya sent him? It made no sense. Why would Taiga feel bad about a fist pump? Because he was with Danny? Because Tetsuya wasn’t with him? Testu knew everything about Taiga—the way he thought, the way he acted, the way he loved. What was he missing? 

He worked up a decent sweat before he lifted the ball and decided—in a split second—to try his ignite pass. 

Daiki caught the ball with a smack of his agile hands and finished with a shaking dunk upon the rusted hoop. “Nice pass, Tetsu!” he called. 

Ryouta caught the ball and threw back to Testu. “Pass to me next, Kurokocchi!” 

Blinking, Tetsuya saw Reo and Seijuro, then Tatsuya and Atsushi work their way through the crowd, which waited patiently for the Saturday games to begin. Momoi stood in the corner of the court, the whistle dangling upon her chest, and she waved frantically toward him, “Tetsu-kun!”

“It seems we all had the same idea,” Seijuro greeted as he dropped his bag by the bench and pulled out his water bottle. 

“Yeah, well, quit hogging the ball, Tetsu! I have morning shoot-around at ten, so let’s get the game started.”

Atsushi bit down on a rather large potato chip. “Hm…not everything has to go according to your schedule, Mine-chin.”

“You know the world all but revolves around Daiki, Atsushi,” Tatsuya soothed as he went up for a shot, only for Daiki to block it. 

“That’s because the only one who can beat me is—”

Atsushi slammed his massive hand down on the ball, effortlessly tearing it from Daiki’s hand. “Me.”

Daiki grumbled as Ryouta swept up the ball, “Show off.”

The scene seemed surreal, like Tetsuya was surrounded by the ghosts of his past, even though he’d kept in contact with all his friends. It still had been months since they met like this, as equals upon the streetball court despite their different vocations and skill levels. The only one missing was Taiga, who probably enjoyed Saturday morning games almost as much as Tetsuya. 

Well, Shinatrou and Kazunari, too, were missing, but they’d be joining the group by the start of summer. 

Tatsuya threw up a shot, which hit nothing but net. “Let’s get started.”

Seijuro clapped Testu on the shoulder as he passed. “Yes. Let’s.”

Tetsuya pinched himself numerous times to make sure he still awake, and tiny red bumps lifted on his skin. Of course, he almost lost consciousness when Ryouta latched onto his neck and demanded to be on his team. 

“Practice, Kurokocchi,” he assured. “We need to practice, so we’re all ready for next season.” 

“In that case, the three of us should play together,” Tatsuya offered, leaning on both Ryouta and Tetsuya in a quasi-hug. 

“Fine, then who’s with me?” Daiki demanded. 

Seijuro swiped the ball from Atsushi and bounced the ball between his legs. “Reo and I will start with you, so both teams have a forward, point guard, and shooting guard. Atsushi, why don’t you finish your chips and join in the second round?”

“Eh? Okay, Aka-chin.”

Tetsuya took to the court, anticipation surging through his veins. He wasn’t fearful anymore and avoided the ball’s touch. Instead, he leaned upon his brother’s forearm, waiting for Satsuki to throw the jumpball, and when she did so, he didn’t head toward the basket. He just stepped in front of Seijuro. 

Daiki could jump higher than Ryouta, so he immediately threw the ball toward Seijuro—or right into Tetsuya’s hands. Tetsuya immediately tossed it to Tatsuya, who already stood at the three-point line. Reo was there in an instant, so Tatsuya threw it back to Ryouta who went up for the shot at half-point line. Even when Ryouta used Shintarou’s form, the ball hit the front rim.

Ryouta’s lips formed a tight line. “Hm. I think I need to watch Midorimacchi again.”

When Seijuro caught the ball, Tetsuya was on top of him, bent down low, ready to pounce. Seijuro pulled the ball to his hip in a triple threat, watching, surveying, waiting—and then he attacked in a blaze of motion. 

Tetsuya jerked his elbow, tipping the ball out of Seijuro’s drive and right to Tatsuya who passed it back to him. He took off, dribbling down the court. The onlookers’ cheers fueled the jump in Tetsuya’s step, and his sneakers pounded the pavement. Then he was up, the ball was up, and it thunked off the backboard and into the net. 

Tetsuya, of course, overran the court and slammed against the chain-link fence. 

“There are no commercial breaks during streetball games, Tetsuya,” Seijuro admonished with a smirk, and then the ball was halfway up the court in Reo’s hands. 

“You are not favorite person right now, Aniki.”

“Then you shouldn’t overrun the end line.” 

“You are wise in your old age.”

“I’m only fourteen minute older, Tetsuya.”

“But such an important fourteen minutes as you’ve made clear on multiple occasions.”

“Will you two shut up and play already?” Daiki growled, passing the ball back to Reo from the paint, irritated by Ryouta’s tight defense. 

Tetsuya took off with Seijuro on his heels and gaining. They pushed each other, faster and faster, and Tetsuya couldn’t stop the smile that overcame his face. He loved playing. He loved the challenge. He loved the game and his friends, and even though he enjoyed formal games, nothing quite compared to Saturday morning streetball tournaments. 

He wondered if Taiga ever missed them, too. Was that why Taiga lost his smile? Because basketball was no longer fun in the NBA? But Daiki still smiled.

Ryouta scored the last point over Daiki, a dunk that reverberated over the entire court, and Tetsuya collapsed onto the bench, a towel thrown over his head. His shallow breath raked through his throat, and an intense weave of nausea swept through him. In fact, he was pretty sure he might die. 

It was wonderful. He had missed it, Tetsuya could admit now. 

A massive hand clamped down upon his head, ruffling his strands through the damp towel. “Eh, Kuro-chin. Who do you want to crush?”

“Yeah, you’re hitting the ball pretty hard today.” Ryouta flopped down on the bench next to Tetsuya and shook his flushed hand for emphasis. “Could you maybe spare the rest of us?”

Tetsuya smacked the hand off his head but didn’t emerge from his towel hood. “I do not believe I could crush anyone if I tried, Atsushi-kun, and I do not wish to try.”

Daiki let out a dry laugh. “You sure about that?”

“Leave it, Daiki,” Seijuro ordered, but Daiki rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, come on. I’m not the only one who sees it—ow! Satsuki!” 

“Dai-chan! I told you not to interfere!” She threw her hands down to her sides, and even after all these years, it still brought a smile to Tetsuya’s face to see the great and powerful Daiki brought down to the ground by the slight Satsuki. “It’s none of our business.”

“But I want to play against Taiga in the fin—ow!”

“What about Kagami-kun?” Now Tetsuya pulled his towel off, recreating his awful bedhead. 

Satsuki huffed and gave Daiki the stinky eye, while Tatsuya avoided his eyes, instead choosing to get Atsushi another bag of chips to last him through the second game. Ryouta snagged Reo for some last-minute shots, and Seijuro, of course, met his question straight on. 

“You must be watching the games. You know he isn’t leading his team.”

“I still do not understand how I am at fault for Kagami-kun’s play.”

“I’ve only seen Taiga choke this bad once before,” Daiki interjected before Satsuki slapped him again, this time jumping to reach the back of his head. “Ow! Woman, I swear you are so—”

“When?” 

They looked guilty, as if they’d been hiding something from him on purpose, and then Satsuki stepped forward, grabbing his hands. They shook, and he didn’t know when that had started. 

“When you went for surgery, Tetsu-kun, Taiga-kun stayed until you were recovering, but he had a meeting with the Golden State Warriors. I went with him because he seemed out of it, and he botched the interview. He couldn’t concentrate, and when he went to show off his skills, he couldn’t make a single basket until he heard from Sei-kun that you were awake.”

“And that’s why it’s better that we’re apart,” Tetsuya whispered, his strength all but gone. “I only steal his light.”

“But Kurokocchi, you’ve never stolen Kagamicchi’s light.” Ryouta flung an arm about his shoulders and held him close. “You’ve always fueled it. And he fueled yours. That’s why you two were the perfect pair.” 

Tetsuya ignored Daiki’s choked sound, though later, he would be flattered. At that moment, he waited with a bated breath for Ryouta’s next words. 

“Don’t you see? You were Daiki’s shadow, _our_ shadow, but you’re Kagamicchi’s light. And for the last year, you haven’t shone. That’s why he can’t shine now.” He practically beamed. “You have to light the way.” 

_To Be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_  
>     
> The Maserati screeched to a halt just outside the terminal, and Tetsu jumped out with his one duffle, running into the terminal. 
> 
> “Go, Tetsu!” Daiki cheered. 
> 
> Tetsu quickly arranged his ticket, cleared security, and dashed to his gate. The door to the jet way was closing, and he yelled for the crew to stop. The flight attendant screamed once she saw him before her but quickly recovered. 
> 
> “Sir, please take a seat.”
> 
> “I’m on this flight. Please let me board.”
> 
> “Sir, I would, but we haven’t called for boarding yet. I was closing the door because there’s a draft. We’ll start boarding in about ten minutes.”
> 
> Oh. Huh. He glanced around the terminal and found the Starbucks not too far away. Instead of ordering a vanilla latte, he ordered a double chocolate chip frappe. 
> 
> …
> 
> He threw it out five minutes later and went back for a vanilla latte. Then, he barely made his plane.
> 
> After all, it’s not a grand gesture without any dramatics.


	10. Taiga-kun Owes Me a Vanilla Latte...and a Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Everyone! Sorry for the delay. This is the climax! Unfortunately, I haven't been able to write the epilogue yet, though there is one planned. That will be coming, but probably not until late May/early June. I usually hold off posting the next chapter until I have the one after it written, but I didn't want to hold the climax until then. So here you go! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It certainly paid to have rich friends, Tetsuya thought as he stood in the aisle of the plane, tapping his toe against the small wall between the seat and door. As soon as the flight attendant moved out of the way, he took off, dashing up the jetway and into Terminal C of Newark Liberty International Airport. Of course, he came out at the very last gate, so with a huffed breath, he took off with his carry-on through the crowded maze that was United’s hub. 

_“You can certainly hear the crowd tonight. I almost have to scream into the microphone, so my apologies to those listening to us via live stream,”_ the radio announcer called through Tetsuya’s iPhone earbuds.

_“I haven’t seen the arena this loud in a while, but what do you expect? We’re in game five of the Eastern Conference Finals, and the Knicks are down by three.”_

_“New Yorkers refuse to give up, and despite the odds, they have their eyes on the championship.”_

_“But that’s only if Taiga Kagami comes to play today. He looked distracted during the warm-ups, and he hasn’t broken through this playoff season.”_

_“Yeah, Bob. He’s done a complete 180 from the regular season where he dominated the court, taking the scoring title, and he’s sure to be part of First All-NBA Team, the First All-Rookie Team, Rookie of the Year—”_

_“I don’t know, Tim. The second half of the Japanese Wonder Twins, Daiki Aomine, is sure to snatch at least one of those spots—”_

_“—but Kagami has already been announced as the recipient of the Maurice Podoloff Trophy. Will he finally live up to that MVP title in the playoffs? We’ll see tonight as your New York Knicks take on the Boston Celtics, and the players are taking to the court.”_

_“Kagami is taking his place around the circle, along with Davidson, Phillips, Gonzalez, and Brown. For the Celtics, we have Reyes, James, Smith, Keating, and Gibbins.”_

_“Quick projections! Who’s going to win, Bob?”_

Tetsuya followed the bright yellow signs past security and down an escalator to the second level, where the taxis awaited. Throwing open the door, he plopped down and asked in an urgent plea, “MSG, please.”

The driver, who had been skimming his phone, glanced up in his rearview mirror and jumped in his seat. “Geez, kid! How long have you been there?”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Tetsuya reiterated, “MSG, please.”

“Are you sure? We won’t be there until at the second period, if not half-time.”

 _I asked one of my best friends to pay thousands of dollars for a last-minute flight here from California, then flew six hours in order to get into your cab and not be sure of where I wanted to go._

Out loud, Tetsuya only said, “Yes. I’m sure. Thank you.”

“You don’t mind if I put the game on, do you? The Knicks are playing tonight.”

Tetsuya already had it on his phone, but he shrugged and tugged out his earphones. 

_“—and there’s the tip-off! Wow, the crowd is getting even louder. Ooh, and they all went into a collective growl once Sanders passed to Kagami. And Kagami’s up—oooh. The ball thunked off the front of the rim. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a basket block a player before.”_

_“Just another blunder by Kagami. Still hasn’t broken through that latest wall.”_

Tetsuya’s face retained its usual blank mask, but inwardly, he cringed, imaging the broken look upon Taiga’s face. 

“Man, I have no idea what’s gotten into him,” the driver bemoaned, and the cab weaved between two cars to get into the EasyPass Lane of the turnpike booths. “Have you been watching the playoffs?”

“Some.”

“Kagami used to rule the court, y’know? There ain’t no one who could beat him.”

“Yes.” 

“But he’s just been missing shots and screwing up on D. If they don’t win this series, I can’t see the Knicks keeping him on next year. What do you think?”

The answer was instantaneous and easy, heartfelt and true. “I believe in Kagami-kun.”

“Eh? You know, you sound a lot like Kagami’s partner from UCLA. Tetsu…what was his last name? Dribbled real fancy but was as short as a grade schooler.”

Tetsuya took offense and bit off, “Akashi.”

“Right. Tetsu Akashi. Damn fine player before that injury of his.” Tetsuya caught the driver’s eyes as they glanced back in the rearview mirror and subsequently widened. “Hey, waitaminute. Aren’t you—”

“Hai. Now please watch the road, and if you get us there before half-time, I’ll get you an autograph.”

“Kid, shove the autograph. Fix whatever’s wrong with Kagami. I want another championship in my lifetime!”

A soft smile overtook Tetsuya’s thin lips, and he nodded. “Hai.”

_“And yet another failed conversion from Kagami tonight. He’s oh-and-five for field goals, but he has three lay-ups, bringing him to a total of six points so far. Knicks down by eighteen with five-forty-six left in the second period. New York is calling a time-out, but I don’t know what they think that’s going to achieve.”_

The bumper-to-bumper traffic began before they hit Times Square, and by then, Tetsuya sat close to the glass, constantly seeing how much farther they had to go. 

“I can’t move any faster, kid,” the driver growled and thrust his palm into the middle of the wheel, letting out an aggravating wail. “Come on!”

48th and Broadway. It would have to do. 

“Excuse me.” Tetsuya dropped the required bills and a sizable tip before bailing. 

“Hey, hey! You go, kid! Bring us a championship!” 

_“Another botched attempt but Davidson puts it in for two more. Knicks down by sixteen.”_

With his duffle secure against his back and his buds snug in his ears, Tetsuya weaved between passersby, dashing between stopped cars at crossings and ignoring the flashy lights of TimeS Square. 

_“They’re holding on, but—oh, that’s a three for Boston, who is now up by nineteen. The Knicks just don’t seem to have it in them to keep going.”_

_“It’s pretty demoralizing, Bob. Every time it looks like they’ve broken through, they just find themselves falling farther and farther into the abyss.”_

_“You know what they say? The light at the end of the tunnel may be an oncoming train.”_

Tetsuya sucked in deep breaths. He let his muscles burn as he pushed himself to be faster, to keep moving. His training definitely paid off the last few months, bringing him back up to playing level, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to get there. He needed to see Taiga. 

_“Two-twenty-three left in the second, and honestly, I don’t know what the Knicks are going to do now. I don’t know what they_ can _do.”_

“Look, you can see it in the bar like every other New Yorker, all right?”

Tetsuya leaned over on his knees, trying to breathe before pushing upright and fighting to talk. _“You…don’t…understand. Need to see…Kagami-kun.”_

“Yeah, and so do eight million other people,” the security guard replied, arms crossed as he stood before the VIP entrance. “But only 18,000 get the right with a ticket, which you don’t have.”

“I can get one,” Tetsuya explained, his usually calm voice straining, “but I need to see Kagami-kun first.”

“Do you understand how this ticket thing works?” the guard asked facetiously. “You buy a ticket first, and then you come in and watch the game.”

“I’m not here to see the game. I’m here to see Kagami-kun.”

The guard slapped himself in the forehead. “Okay, let’s try this again, kid.”

“No.” Tetsuya balled his fists, patience suddenly lacking at he stared down the much taller man. “You are being extremely uncooperative, and unless you let me in now, Kagami-kun will not recover. The Knicks will lose the Eastern Conference Championship, and you alone will be the one solely responsible for crushing the hopes and dreams of the entire city. Are you ready to carry that burden?”

_“Still down by nineteen with less than a minute to go before the half, and the crowd has gone silent, Tim. It looks like the Knicks’ sixth man won’t be coming to—”_

_“Did you hear that, Bob? Sounded like a shout over by…yeah, there’s something going on by section 102. Looks like there’s some security.”_

_“Fan altercation?”_

_“Maybe. A referee has called a time-out because the players became distracted, but it looks like security has someone in a yellow sweatshirt—what’s that? Really? Our producer said it looks like Tetsuya Akashi.”_

_“The UCLA point guard?”_

_“Yeah. He’s close with Taiga Kag—do you hear that?”_

_“Sounds like…is the whole section chanting?”_

_“ ‘I…Believe…in Taiga…kun?’”_

What had been a single shout that echoed through the once silent arena spread, gaining momentum as one section after another joined. The fans and the city came alive, routing for their newest favorite son, taking to their feet and waving their towels. They wouldn’t take this lost sitting down, not when they had a rookie ace who walked on air and played with fire. They believed in Taiga. Taiga just had to believe in himself. Or someone have to believe in him— _for him._

Tetsuya stood at the first top of the section, surrounded by guards to keep him from being mobbed like he’d been in L.A., and he glared down, unrelenting in the hold he held upon Taiga. 

Or perhaps it was the other way around. He wasn’t quite sure, but as soon as his shout cut through the arena, Taiga turned, eyes shaking and glassy as they found Tetsuya on the platform. A furious wave of shock swept through Tetsuya, awakening him from what had felt like a long and tireless slumber. Tiny bumps rose upon his skin, and his mouth dried. He wasn’t sure what else to say, and now, with less than a minute left in the second period with Taiga live on national TV, there wasn’t anything he could. 

But he believed in Taiga-kun and always would. Taiga needed to know that.

Taiga stood there at the very edge of the court, sweat dribbling down his flushed cheeks like tears, and Tetsuya wanted to wipe them away with his thumbs, cradling Taiga’s cheeks in his palms. His shadowed expression looked so lost, so broken, like he had fought so hard and would never win, could never win. But Taiga never gave up, and Tetsuya cursed himself for waiting so long to come, for allowing Taiga to fall so far. 

Taiga mouthed something, but Tetsuya was too far away to see. He could only assume it was his name, whispered like a prayer, and Tetsuya nodded, once, a gentle smile finding his soft lips. 

_I’m here,_ it said, _to light your way._

“I believe…in Taiga-kun…?”a fan next to him had repeated, low and uncertain, but then said the words again and again. The chant became infectious, flooding through the arena and growing into a crescendo until cheers and words were nothing but loud, thrilling, intense noise.

Taiga looked away then, eyes wandering about the arena in absolute awe, but as the referee’s whistle blew to restart the game, Taiga returned his gaze to Tetsuya. There was something different there now, a determination, a light where once shadows ruled, and he lifted up his fist. 

Tetsuya’s eyesight blurred. Hot, wet tears slid down his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop the breathless laugh that slipped out. 

“Taiga-kun…” he murmured before lifting up his fist. 

The net reverberated the very next play from the force of the Taiga’s dunk. 

“You weren’t kidding,” the first security guard muttered, leaning close to Tetsuya. 

Tetsuya smiled softly, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I believe in Taiga-kun. Taiga-kun needs to believe in himself.”

By the half, the Knicks were down only by fourteen, and Tetsuya wanted to see Taiga leave the court before being escorted outside again, but a hand clamped down upon his shoulder. 

“Could have used you before the game,” Danny greeted, “but better late than never, I guess.”

People now packed the once empty corridors of the arena with trainers, coaches, the mascot, and even cheerleaders running through doors and clogging up the way. Danny led Tetsuya through it with a hand clenched in his sweatshirt, as if afraid Tetsuya would turn and run, but Tetsuya followed obligingly, trying to avoid the madness as best he could. As they passed the locker room, he heard gruff shouting from an obvious authority figure before Danny pushed him into a side room not three doors down the hall, a physical training room where Taiga sat, elbows on his knees, a towel about the back of his neck. 

Taiga glanced up and halted, all those ugly emotions like doubt and guilt and disbelief running through his expression, but Tetsuya let the best thing that happened to him leave 454 days ago. He wouldn’t let it go again. 

But before he could talk, Taiga’s face smoothed into a condemning scowl. “What are you doing here?”

Tetsuya cast a sideways glance at Danny, who ironically was more amused than perturbed, before shrugging at Taiga. “Taiga-kun owes me a vanilla latte. I came to collect it.”

Confusion swept across Taiga’s face before he remembered the tweet he sent three months ago, and then he ducked his head and lowered his eyes. “You have the absolute worst timing.”

“So I’ve heard from Danny-san here. I blame Aniki. He made me fourteen minutes late to our birth, and I have yet to recover.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Tetsuya. “You are one weird little dude.”

“Hey, Danny,” Taiga chastised with a sharp tone, “get out of here. Private moment.” 

“Fine, fine.” He threw up his hands and retreated to the door. “Second half starts in fifteen. Your coach will probably want to yell at you before it begins.” Before he left, he winked at Tetsuya. “Just make sure he can walk the rest of the game, all right?”

“Danny!”

The door slammed then, leaving them alone in the suddenly silent confinement. Tetsuya had flown more than three thousand miles, drove more than twenty, and then ran almost twenty blocks to get here, and yet the short distance between him and Taiga seemed like a chasm, ready to devour him the moment he took a step forward. 

He didn’t know what else to say, now that it was just the two of them. The words had come so easy on the court. They always did, and perhaps that was their problem. Their relationship spoke the language of basketball, and it yelled the last month. 

“I’m sorry you had to come, Tetsu,” Taiga whispered in a weak growl. “Who was it? Ahomine? Ryouta? Sei?”

Tetsuya blinked. “ _I_ came to see Taiga-kun.”

“But you wouldn’t have by yourself,” Taiga accused. “Someone told you to come and see me.”

“Yes, Sportscenter. And pretty much everyone, including your friend Danny-san.”

“Well, they’re all wrong.” Taiga snorted. “My play has nothing to do with you.”

“So why didn’t Taiga-kun return my fist pump? Why did you ‘completely crumble,’ according to Daiki-kun, in the second half of your game in L.A.? Why haven’t you been able to break through during the playoffs?”

The red deepened on Taiga’s face, and he averted his eyes. “You probably have finals this week, don’t you? You’re not skipping any—”

“Taiga-kun is more important.”

Now Taiga glared up at him from his chair, looking furious and condemning. “Stop staying things like that. We broke up.”

“But that doesn’t mean Taiga-kun ever stopped being important to me.” Tetsuya ventured forward now, and when Taiga refused to look up at him, he fell to his knees between Taiga’s legs. This close, he felt the heat of Taiga’s skin, smelled the lingering scent of his cologne mixing with fresh sweat. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t regretted letting him go every one of the last 454 days.”

“Letting me go?” Taiga repeated, befuddled. “Tetsu, I left you.”

“Because I wanted you to. Because I wanted you to succeed.” Tetsuya pushed upward, pressing his forehead against Taiga’s. “Taiga-kun is brilliant, and I wanted all his dreams to come true.”

Taiga swallowed, his voice grave. “They were _our_ dreams…or so I thought.” 

“I’m not delusional, Taiga-kun. I never had any aspirations for the NBA. I was just relieved to play on the same court as you again.”

“Why do you do that?” Taiga demanded, taking hold onto Tetsuya’s shoulders to push him back. “Why do you always put yourself down? It pisses me off.”

Taiga was angry at him? “But it’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not. You kicked every other point guard’s ass in the NCAA. You won us the championship, Tetsuya. Not me. _You._ ” Taiga ruffled his own hair, sending tiny flecks of sweat about the room, before he sighed and his eyes slipped closed. “And you pushed me away and toward my dreams. You gave up the one thing you loved most, so I would succeed.”

“But the thing I loved most and gave up wasn’t basketball, Taiga-kun.”

Taiga’s eyes rounded and burned with an intensity that stole Tetsuya’s breath, but his massive hands were soft when they cradled his cheeks. “You were right to give me up, Tetsu. You deserve someone who finally makes you realize how awesome you are, someone who won’t let you hurt yourself, and someone who will notice if you do. You deserve that, Tetsu, not someone who selfishly takes all you give and then leaves you in return.”

The warmth Tetsuya felt seeing Taiga again vanished, leaving an empty, sucking void in his chest. When he spoke, his voice sounded like the soft winds died over gravestones. “I wanted to follow Taiga’s light. He lit my path, so I could shine.”

“You crossed a freakin’ ocean from me, Tetsu!” Taiga fumed. “You gave up your dream of becoming a teacher to play basketball with me. You trained for three years straight for nothing more than to still play with me, and then when you needed me the most—”

“—you sat in the waiting room because you were afraid I wouldn’t want to see you,” Tetsuya added. 

Taiga stood, lifeless and agape, before his eyes drifted shut to hide the sudden sparkle of tears. “Sei needs to learn to keep his mouth—”

“It was Daiki-kun,” Tetsuya corrected, not bothering to hide his amusement as he stood, too. 

“Of course it was. That _baka._ ” Letting out a furious sigh, Taiga seemed to deflate before Tetsuya’s eyes. “I wanted to be there.”

“I wanted you there.”

“But I wasn’t.” There was that puzzling expression again, the one Tetsuya couldn’t decipher. “Instead I stayed away and let you deal with it on your own.”

“Taiga-kun has a rather inaccurate view of what happened.”

“Damnit, Tetsu! It was my fault you went through all that shit. Why won’t you see that?”

Guilt. That was the expression that baffled Tetsuya all this time—and continued to. “Because Taiga-kun didn’t pull me to the ground or tell me to dismiss the doctor’s diagnosis,” he replied slowly, as if speaking to a child. 

“But I didn’t know you were injured that badly. You went through hell, Tetsu, and if it would have been me, you would have known.” Taiga darkened, his face swollen and red and wet. “ _But I didn’t._ ”

Tetsuya sucked in a sharp inhale, awful realization sending a sudden chill through his body. Of course Taiga would feel responsible. They were in sync, partners in every way that mattered, and supported each other more with actions than with words. It was the only time since that first game versus Touou, that Tetsuya kept something so painful and important from Taiga, and instead of blaming Tetsuya, Taiga blamed himself. 

“Everything I am—it’s because of you, Tetsu. You made me into the best player in Japan and now in America, and you saved me time and time again. I just wish I could have done the same to you.” Taiga bent forward then, pressing a parting kiss to Tetsuya’s forehead. ”Goodbye, Tetsuya.” 

Tetsuya felt nauseated and cold as the last bit of warmth dissipated, though the gentle pressure of Taiga’s lips lingered upon his skin. Tears stung in his eyes as he stared straight ahead, unable to watch Taiga walk out of his life again, and he swallowed down the choking sobs threatening to overtake him. The shadows crept upon him, ready to devour him the moment Taiga walked out of his life again, but only if Tetsuya let him. 

“I’m not going to let you wear that ring around your neck and lament our relationship like you did with Tatsuya-san,” Tetsuya muttered, and he recited the words Taiga spoke to him almost two years ago. “Don’t run away now when we’ve fought for so long. _This_ is our last battle, and I will fight for us, Taiga-chan.”

“Why, Tetsu?” Taiga argued, his voice irritated with hope. “After everything, why do you even want me?”

“Because you saved me, time and time again.” Tetsuya smiled, sweetly and shimmering with fresh tears as Taiga’s footsteps silenced. “You saved me in high school and helped me find my friends—my family—again. You welcomed me into your home and gave me a place to live away from my father, and when it would have easier to simply disappear, you always refused to let me.” His hand shook at his thighs, curling into tight fights. “You challenge me to do better. You make believe I am and get mad when I don’t.”

“Tetsu—” 

“Did Ryouta-kun tell you? He’s coming to UCLA next year to play with me and Tatsuya-san.” He wiped the persistent tears that burned his cheeks. “You saved me again earlier this year when I was here in New York working for my father. You told me not to give up, and I listened. I went back to UCLA and asked Ryouta-kun to join me. We’re going to win another championship, and I’m going to become a teacher, after I play in the NBA. I’m going to forsake the shadows once and for all and shine, so keep playing, Taiga-chan. Win, and look for me. We’ll play on the same court again.”

“You never give up, do you?” Taiga murmured, wet but indulgent. His hand slid along Tetsuya’s slick cheeks, pulling his determined eyes toward Taiga’s glistening ones. Gone was the devouring darkness, replaced by an exasperated fondness Taiga only held for him. 

“I tried twice, but you wouldn’t let me.” Tetsuya pushed up on his toes to wrap his arms about Taiga’s neck, almost hanging off of him like a chain. “And now I’m not letting you give up on us. You lit the path, and I’m going to follow it wherever it may lead.”

Taiga’s shoulders trembled, and whatever strong front Taiga retained crumbled. His arms tightened about Tetsuya, engulfing him in a startlingly tight embrace and pressing his face in the crook between Tetsuya’s neck and his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over. “I’m so sorry, Tetsu. I just kept thinking that you should be here, alongside of me, and—”

A loud blaring sounded through the arena, signaling ten minutes left of half-time. 

“I’m here now,” Tetsuya whispered into Taiga’s ruffled strands. “Will you take me back, Taiga-chan?”

Taiga hugged him even tighter, if that were possible. “Isn’t it the over way around?”

Tetsuya hummed for a moment. “Taiga-chan already has a boyfriend, so I believe he needs to make the decision.”

Taiga froze and away just enough to see Tetsuya’s face. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes. Danny-san.” 

“Danny!” Taiga laughed and lowered his lips to hover over Tetsuya’s, luring him in with a lustful tone and teasing warmth. “Tetsu, Danny’s my agent.”

Tetsuya reacted on instinct, shoving his fingers into Taiga’s gut. 

“Ow! What the hell!”

“Kagami-kun is despicable. He knew I thought Danny-san was his boyfriend.”

Even while wincing, Taiga managed to smirk. “Were you jealous?”

“Yes,” Tetsuya said, crossing his arms. “Now if Taiga-chan wants me to take him back, he’s going to have to win this game.”

“Will you stop with the chan already?” Taiga drew Tetsuya against his body, wrapping his arms about the slender waist again with a teary smile. “Geez. I’m not five.”

Tetsuya lifted up his hand and cupped the side of Taiga’s flushed cheeks. “You are a chan to me, so wonderfully stupid and kind.” 

“Oi!”

“But that’s what I love about Taiga-chan. He is ruled completely by his big heart—” He tugged Taiga’s face to his, speaking against the familiar, plush lips. “—which belongs solely to me.”

Tetsuya dove into Taiga’s endless warmth, seizing Taiga’s mouth in a fervent, desperate kiss. His fingers sunk into the unruly mess that was Taiga’s hair as he pressed against his lover’s saturated uniform, settling into the curve of his hips. Taiga seemed to want him just as intensely and melted into the embrace, his hands coming up to fist in the back of Tetsuya’s shirt, lips opened to allow Tetsuya’s tongue to mingle with his. 

The embrace was sloppy and dirty, Taiga tasting of salt, a fine layer of sweat sticky upon his skin, and Tetsuya, too, ran blocks to get there. But he refused to break the kiss, instead deepening it until they both were breathless and lightheaded, whether from the lack of air or Tetsuya’s unquenchable desire. Need knotted in his belly, vicious and demanding, and Taiga responded by pushing him against the wall, knee pressing against Tetsuya’s heavy groin. 

“I promised Danny-san that you would able to walk the second half.” Tetsuya kissed down Taiga’s jaw to his neck, following the curves lower. “But I want to show Taiga-chan all the appreciation he has been missing the last year.”

“Tet- _suuu._ ” He let out a throaty moan as Tetsuya found that spot that always made Taiga come undone, hidden just under his ear, and he kneaded it with his teeth. 

“I’ve missed Taiga-chan,” he whispered in Taiga’s ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell. He smelled of sweat and cologne; his skin tasted of salt and his jersey stuck to his tight body in an obscenely delicious fashion. “Has Taiga-chan missed—”

The door clicked open then, but Tetsuya was too wrapped up in Taiga’s warmth—here, now, in his arms and about his waist, pulling them together in a heated embrace Tetsuya never wanted to end—to care. He’d been so stupid, so idiotic. How could he ever have thought he could live without this man? How had he ever survived the last year away from Taiga?

“Taiga, Coach wants to see you.”

Tetsuya stilled at the gruff voice of the newcomer, not Danny-san as Tetsuya had expected, but Taiga kept eye contact. He trailed a gentle hand across Tetsuya’s flushed face, brushing back the light strands dusting his forehead, before Tetsuya dipped his head and hid his face in Taiga’s chest. 

“Coming.”

“Not yet,” Tetsuya replied after the door shut again, which brought an adorable blush to Taiga’s cheeks that Tetsuya had to touch.

“Oi! Don’t say that!”

Laughter bubbled in Tetsuya’s chest as he once more wrapped his arms about Taiga’s neck, unable to break physical contact with his lover. “The next time we fight, Taiga-chan needs to take a shower first.” 

Taiga pulled him close again, caging Tetsuya in his overbearing hold. “Next time. I like the sound of that.” 

“Then Taiga-chan needs to win this game, or he won’t win me back.”

Taiga snorted. “I thought you were joking.”

Tetsuya managed to keep his face blank, though it was truly a struggle. “Taiga-chan knows I have no sense of humor.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Tetsu. You’re not seriously riding our entire relationship on a game.”

“Of course not. I believe in Taiga-chan.”

Again, Tetsuya enjoyed Taiga’s flustered expression, and he tried to hide it by pressing Tetsuya’s face against his chest again. 

“But don’t worry, Taiga-chan. I’ll give you a good luck kiss.”

Though Taiga leaned down to touch Tetsuya’s lips, Tetsuya sunk to the floor, hands dragging up Taiga’s strong legs to see the red lines his fingers would make in the pale skin. 

Minutes later, the force of the dunk echoed its slam throughout the arena, and fans leapt to their feet, growling in their personalized tribute to Taiga. Danny leaned against the edge of the family suite, shaking his head with a soft whistle as Taiga captured yet another rebound and took the ball down the court. 

“I think I might be able to negotiate a multi-year contract with the Knicks,” he laughed. “Just saying.”

Tetsuya hummed thoughtfully and watched, silently pleased by the wild fire that returned to Taiga’s game as well as the challenging smirk that dared his rivals to beat him. 

“I plan to finish my education at UCLA before turning pro,” Tetsuya informed him factually, “but afterwards, we may talk.”

“Well, hurry the fuck up, will you? He’s not going to wait forever.”

Tetsuya smiled, knowing full well Taiga wouldn’t have to, though Daiki would have to wait a little longer for his rematch. Despite Taiga’s best efforts, the Knicks lost by three. Tetsuya waited for his partner downstairs with the other spouses, and dressed in a pristine suit with damp but clean hair, Taiga laced their fingers together as they headed toward the exit. 

“So does this mean I lost you a second time?” His voice only wavered at the end, but Tetsuya quickly dispelled his fears, leaning against Taiga’s steady presence and wrapping an arm about his waist. 

“Taiga-chan didn’t lose me a first time.”

Taiga moaned and covered his furiously blushing face with his hand. “Will you please stop saying embarrassing things like that? I’m getting you a freakin’ filter, I swear.”

“You don’t want me saying them when we’re not together. You don’t want me saying them when we are. You are not giving me many options here, Taiga-chan.”

Taiga stopped them then, just before the double doors to the outside. “Why don’t we settle with dropping the chan? In America, people don’t speak with honorifics, y’know.”

Tetsuya’s cheeks heated with a fresh wave of embarrassment. Having only used Taiga’s name without honorifics during their coupling, he felt absurdly exposed, even though he occupied the hallway with only Taiga and a security guard. 

True, everyone else called “Taiga” by his first alone. Why was this such a problem for him?

Capturing Tetsuya’s lips in a quick embrace, Taiga added, “Sorry, but I have to sign a few autographs. It’s my thing, y’know? The fans—”

“I understand…T-Taiga. I’ll wait for you.”

Taiga folded their hands together and led him to the door with a coaxing smile. “Come with me.”

The constant flashes of the camera phones startled Tetsuya initially, but he enjoyed watching Taiga interact with his fans, which stood behind a traffic barrier with their jerseys and posters in hand. Only a few made snide comments about the game, but most praised his work and even added, “Next season, Tiger!” 

Tetsuya smiled when Taiga’s face brightened for yet another picture and jerked when a fan held out a poster toward him. “Would you sign it, too, Mr. Akashi?”

A beat passed as Tetsuya processed the request. “You…want me to sign next to Taiga’s name? But—”

“You brought the Bruins to the NCAA Championship! That was so cool!”

It was, wasn’t it? They did that together. 

“You going to join the NBA, too, right?”

Tetsuya glanced toward Taiga with a slight smile. “Maybe.”

He gingerly took the marker from the fan and quickly signed his name, taking irrational joy of someone appreciating his game. It reminded him so much of that first year in Seirin when everyone praised his passing ability without realizing how he needed to change, how he’d been surpassed by his best friends. But then he met Taiga, and perhaps his life began again. 

“Hey, Tetsu!” Taiga called from down the line. “These people want you in the picture. Get over here.”

Taiga smiled that infectiously bright grin, and Tetsuya couldn’t help but return it, trotting forward to wrap an arm about Taiga’s waist—just because he could—and smiled his reserved grin for the fans. 

He would make a comeback again, and he’d sweep the tournament _again_ , this time with Ryouta, and then they’d see where his basketball landed. Tetsuya couldn’t wait for the new season to begin. 

But then again, that was Taiga Effect, always making feel, always making him excited…and happy. Yes, he was happy with Taiga, and by the hair ruffle and subsequent kiss as they headed off in Taiga’s Range Rover, Taiga felt the same way about him. 

They retired to Taiga’s penthouse in the city, a three-bedroom monstrosity with floor-to-ceiling windows, a large couch, and a spectacular kitchen. With the lights out when they entered, the whole city glowed through Taiga’s windows more gorgeous than any picture or painting, and Tetsuya pressed his fingers against the glass to marvel at the enchanting scene. 

“Taiga-chan’s tastes have changed,” Tetsuya muttered, only slightly queasy at the thought that maybe Taiga’s preference didn’t include short point guards with blue hair, but when he turned to see Taiga, he found his lover on one knee, lifting his necklace over his head and revealing the two rings—Tatsuya’s and one with blue topaz jewels. 

“Look, uh…there’s this argument. Don’t know if you’re heard of it. It may be an American thing, but…after people break up and get back together, it’s either they restart the clock or continue from where they left off.” Taiga’s rubbed the back of his neck before looking up again, and that vulnerable, pure unaltered love in Taiga’s eyes stole Tetsuya’s breath. “That seems stupid to me. I want to stop counting. Even though my life began 1,855 days ago, I don’t care. I knew you before that, and when people ask how long we’ve been together, I want to answer ‘since forever.’”

Taiga lifted up the ring toward Tetsuya. “Will you let me?”

That was a question, one that required more than a blank staring and the occasional blink, which Tetsuya could only accomplish. First, he needed to breathe, and then he needed to take off his UCLA sweatshirt, Taiga’s actually, to reveal the Kagami Knicks jersey he brought earlier in the year. 

Taiga’s eyes practically fell out when Tetsuya dropped to his knees as well and took Taiga’s cheeks between his hands. “Yes.”

Apparently, Taiga either had a ring kink or a jersey kink Tetsuya never knew about because the moment Taiga pushed the ring on Tetsuya’s finger, the tiger pounced, lips pressing hard upon Tetsuya’s, those exceptional arm muscles lifting Tetsuya like he weighed nothing. 

They should have gone to the bedroom—wherever that is—or at least pull the curtains, but shadows shrouded the apartment. So no one should have been able to see when Taiga dropped Tetsuya to the couch and covered him with his own body, kisses smattered from the jaw, down his neck, and to his shoulder, tiny bites igniting desire low in his belly. 

Taiga’s tie landed upon the floor, followed by his jacket as Tetsuya pushed it off with frantic need, but oh, how Taiga could cut a suit. He just wished there weren’t so many layers to Taiga’s sculpted chest, which has somehow become even more spectacular in their months apart.

“ _Taiga-chan…_ ” 

As soon as he revealed the chasm of his chest, Tetsuya pulled himself up toward it, offering seductive swipes of his tongue along the firm ridges before licking up Taiga’s throat to feel the apple bob underneath. His own pants grew uncomfortably tight as Taiga fell upon him, pushing up _his_ jersey to wrap his tongue around one of Tetsuya’s nipples. A fierce shiver overtakes him, and he buried his fingers in Taiga’s thick mop, pulling his head up so he could look in those beautiful eyes, glazed with want and fire. 

“Taiga-chan, get inside me,” he demanded, feeling the liquid stinging his eyes.

If possible, Taiga let out a heated snarl of hunger. “I need to prepare you.”

“No, I want to feel you—all of you.” His cheeks burned, a mix of desire and embarrassment, but Taiga leaned over him, fusing their lips together again as he popped the button of Tetsuya’s jeans and slid his hand inside. 

Tetsuya’s stomach muscles contracted, and wet, strangled breaths escaped from his lips when Taiga teased him with a long swipe of his cock before pulling his legs free of jeans and boxers. Pushing upward, he unhitched Taiga, his lover falling against the opposite side of the couch before Tetsuya climbed into his lap, only wearing his jersey while clawing at Taiga’s shirt and belt. 

“You are still too clothed.”

“Tetsu…” Taiga breathed, hands ghosting over Tetsuya’s muscular thighs, brushing across his hips before coming to settle on his lower back, under the jersey’s hem. He pulled Tetsuya down for another kiss before asking, “Do I—Did you—Should I get the condoms?” he finally blurted, much to Tetsuya’s confusion. 

Thighs still straddling Taiga’s, he leaned back, Taiga’s loose arms still holding his waist, fingers absently drawing circles upon Tetsuya’s back. 

“I want Taiga to come inside me.”

Taiga’s hands dipped lower, squeezing and kneading Tetsuya’s ass, his teeth coming up to nip Tetsuya’s bottom lip. “And I want to. Oh, God, you don’t know how much, but…but did you…while we—”

Eyes rounding, realization flooding him, Tetsuya dove forward to grip, hands slapping over Taiga’s cheeks as he took those lips in a crushing embrace, tongue forcing its way through the surprised gasp and refusing to relent until Taiga’s lips and groin were swollen and hot. 

“No,” he gasped, pressing his forehead against Taiga’s again. “You?”

“Ryouta offered to give me a blowjob once when he said I was being a massive prick, but I didn’t take him up on it.”

“Hm. Thank you for letting me know, Taiga-chan. I will make sure Ryouta-kun is properly chastised for his misstep.”

Taiga’s smile edged into a smirk as he leaned closer, hand engulfing Tetsuya’s cock and pumping slowly. “That sounds sexy,” Taiga whispered into his ear. 

Tetsuya could barely think with Taiga’s coaxing strokes. Taiga’s hand slipped below, and Tetsuya leaned forward against his lover’s massive chest, licking and sucking the skin until it bruised. Taiga slowly pressed one finger against the pulsating ring and pushed. 

“God, you’re so tight.”

Tetsuya let out a soft whimper. 

“Haven’t you been doing anything back here?”

Tetsuya whipped the belt from Taiga’s waist and opened his slacks, revealing Taiga’s already half-hard member. “It doesn’t have the same satisfaction without Taiga-chan’s…nngh…thick fingers…or his magnificent cock.”

Taiga eased in another finger, burying it to his second knuckle, their cocks grinding against one another. “You are so hot, Tetsu. God, you’re sucking me in. I don’t think I can—” 

A strangled gasp escaped Tetsuya’s throat when Taiga’s fingers curled, just so, finding that spot at always made him see white. 

His pucker released Taiga’s fingers with an obscene pop, and with hooded eyes, Tetsuya managed to lift himself up on his quivering thighs and pushed himself down upon Taiga’s stiff member. His fingers dug into Taiga’s shoulders as his legs shook terribly, and it hurt. A sharp burn spread through his back as the cock stretched his slick hole, but Taiga was there, a reassuring presence with soothing hands running down his back and sides, face nuzzling the top of his hair. 

“Breathe,” he coaxed, voice thick with need, so deep, so sexy. Tetsuya barely managed a breath, squirming, legs tightening about Taiga’s waist like a vice. 

Tetsuya sunk down as far as he could, head thrown back to escape the intense heat for a moment, before Taiga bit the curve of his neck. It was a warning, of course, and then Taiga began to move. He pushed Tetsuya down on the couch, pulling out just enough for Tetsuya to feel his entire size before he slammed back in, so far down Tetsuya’s stomach muscles clenched. A surprise cry escaped his mouth, pleasure crashing upon him, his cock hardening and dripping onto his own belly. 

Taiga leaned over him, face bright and flush with arousal, his thickness throbbing deep inside Tetsuya with every thrust, and Tetsuya let out a delicious groan, arms coiling about Taiga’s neck, fingers splayed in his hair. 

Tetsuya’s vison blurred; fresh tears stung in his eyes. Taiga noticed, arms tightening about his torso in a worried embrace. 

“Tet-Tetsu, you okay? Did I hurt—”

“No,” he choked, arching his back toward Taiga, who took the hint, curling his hand obligingly around Tetsuya’s cock. Tetsuya’s teary smile persevered, even as he demanded in a broken whisper, “Never leave me again.”

Taiga’s face scrunched in its own heartfelt grin. “Never. ‘Til death do us part and all that.”

“I’m greedy. I want Taiga longer.”

Taiga responded with action, spreading his own legs to pin Tetsuya into harder into the couch and pistoning in a slow but thorough rhythm, skin slapping in a lewd display. The brutal thrusts grew in intensity, timed perfectly to the pace of Taiga’s strokes, and with a final, breathless whine, Tetsuya splashed upon his own chest. Taiga followed shortly, a wet warmth burning his thighs. 

Legs weak and trembling, Tetsuya tipped his head back against the couch cushions, his heart thumping with the power of a jackhammer, and he was sure he was on the verge of passing out when a shaking hand cupped his chin and lifted it up for a wet, sloppy but savoring kiss. Taiga’s tongue teased his bottom lip before dipping inside again, and Tetsuya just held onto consciousness as long as he could, enjoying the simple pleasure of Taiga’s presence, his sinful mouth, and his eager embraces. 

“God, I love you,” Taiga murmured, sliding out completely, making Tetsuya’s nerves tingle and twitch in his most delicate areas. He lay his head upon Tetsuya’s still heaving chest, arms still locked about his lover’s torso. “Thank you for saving me again.”

“You lost tonight, Taiga-chan,” he replied, already on the verge of sleep. 

“No, Tetsu, I won.” 

Taiga’s hand sought out Tetsuya’s and knotted their fingers together, and Tetsuya let go completely then, lulled into a relaxing slumber by the steady rhythm of the other half of his heart. 

_To Be Concluded…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake One:_
> 
> The doorbell rang in an insistent rhythm, so Ryouta jumped up from his bed in the UCLA dorm and ran to the door. When he opened it, it let out a surprised cry at the foot that connected with his stomach. 
> 
> He collapsed to the ground, arms squeezing his abdomen. After a series of coughs, he managed to wheeze, “ _Senpai…you’re here!_ ”
> 
> Kasamatsu Yokio leaned against the doorframe, a fierce scowl upon his face (though that was no different from usual). “Yes. Kuroko called me and asked me to come here to make sure you’re properly chastised.”
> 
> Ryouta smiled a painful grin. “ _That sounds dirty, Senpai!_ ”
> 
> Kasamatsu shrugged and closed the door behind him. “I brought condoms.”
> 
> Ryouta’s eyes sparkled. 
> 
> _Omake Two:_
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  1,855. Called it. 
> 
> **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @absoluteemperor u did not u called 1,851 days u were off by 4
> 
>  **Kise Ryouta** @kaijocopycat  
>  @absoluteemperor Was that why you called us all to LA, Akashicchi? To put Kagakuro back together?
> 
>  **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight You are mistaken, Daiki.
> 
>  **TMZ** @TMZ  
>  @absoluteemperor @brightestlight He’s not. We have the exchange right here. [link]
> 
> Twenty-five minutes later…
> 
>  **CNN** @breakingnews  
>  TMZ brought by Akashi Enterprises! More details to come…
> 
>  **TMZ** @TMZ  
>  We issue a sincere apology to @absoluteemperor. He was correct. He called 1,855 days until Kagakuro was back together. 
> 
> **Akashi Seijuro** @absoluteemperor  
>  @brightestlight What were you saying, Daiki?
> 
>  **Aomine Daiki** @brightestlight  
>  @iamshadow tetsu!!!!!!!
> 
> P.S. Omake Three is posted in "On and Off the Court," chapter 23.


	11. Epilogue - 2,190 - Oh, the hell with it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. And now I want a cheeseburger and milkshake...

_“—and only forty-two seconds left in the game. Jackson is bringing up the ball, though UCONN won’t be able to make up the twenty-three-point difference this late in the game, Tim.”_

_“Absolutely, Bob. UCLA has dominated this game, much like they’ve dominated the season.”_

_“After their horrible record last year, they’ve really rebounded this season, rocketing to a 23-10 record before the bracket, and now they’re poised to take their second NCAA title in three years.”_

_“And they really owe it to Tetsuya Akashi, Bob. After recovering from the devastating injury that took him out all last season, he has led the team to victory with his incredible passes and unbelievable plays.”_

_“Coupled with UCLA’s newest sensation, Ryouta—whoa! Kise just knocked the ball from UCONN’s Brown and is barreling down the court with less than ten seconds to go.”_

_“He just passed back to Akashi!”_

_“It’s only fitting that Akashi has the ball for the last play, Tim.”_

_“It looks like he’s going to wind down the time—and UCLA wins! UCLA wins the Final Four!”_

As the horn resounded through the already loud arena, Tetsuya slammed the ball against the Final Four logo at mid-court, and it bounced so high that it almost hit the Jumbotron. Unfathomable relief melted the tension of his muscles, and he wanted to collapse on the spot from exhaustion. But the fans decked out in blue and gold rushed the basketball court of the Alamodome—perhaps it was poetic justice that his second Final Four tournament was in Texas, too—and before he was mobbed, Ryouta swept him into a tight and secure embrace, heaving him higher than the frantic crowd. 

“We did it, Kurokocchi!” Ryouta cheered. “We did it!”

After all these years of accepting Kise’s suffocating hugs, Tetsuya reciprocated, wrapping his arms about Ryouta’s neck and returning the hug just as tightly. They had done it, hadn’t they?

“Tetsu! Ryouta!” Tatsuya shouted, throwing his arms about them, too. 

They screamed and laughed and cried as the team joined them and bounced in rhythmed jumps, growling with the cheers of the Bruins’ fans, and finally—finally Kise put him down. But Tetsu smiled so widely that his face physically ached, and he swung about, hardly able to see the stands through the confetti storm but he could certainly hear them. 

And if only for a moment, the world stopped. The arena silenced, and Tetsuya’s body numbed as he stood in the middle of the absolute chaos. Tatsuya beamed, his radiance so bright that Tetsuya had to squint to see his jovial features. Ryouta, likewise, burned with an overwhelming brilliance, somehow even more sparkling than his usual awesome glow, and Tetsuya himself felt so warm and happy that he thought he might actually burst from the excitement that tingled in his body. 

His smile grew wider, and he threw back his head to let out another wild shriek. 

As captain of the team, Tetsuya accepted the golden plated trophy, his heart pounding in his chest as he thrust it into the air, and the arena erupted into cheers once more. It was different this time around. The first championship, Taiga had interceded on this behalf, the two of them in sync as the Shadow and Light once more, and he’d always cherish that first, unbelievable season. 

But this—this he did. He took the struggling team and led them to an incredible rebound season. He carried the hopes and dreams of the UCLA team and their fans on the court and let them feed his plays. He blazed into the zone game after game, taking Tatsuya and Ryouta with him, and when the game was on the line, the team turned to him to make the final play. 

He was the team’s ace, and he shone.

“Tetsuya, you seemed shocked when the Associated Press named you the Most Outstanding Player of the Tournament,” a reporter asked once the media director ushered he, Ryouta, and Tatsuya into the post-game press conference. “Why were you? You dominated the court this entire March Madness.”

Tetsuya already sported his backwards hat and championship team shirt when he leaned into the microphone. “ _I am always humbled by the generosity of the media and my fellow players. There were so many deserving of this award, so I am grateful to the AP for their recognition._ ” 

Tatsuya let out an exaggerated sigh. “Looks like Tetsuya’s too excited, guys. You know the drill.” And he translated quickly. 

“Ryouta, will you be returning to acting next year or staying on at UCLA?”

_“Nothing is more thrilling than playing with Kurokocchi, so I can’t wait for next year to start!”_

“Not you, too!” Tatsuya bemoaned albeit with a cheerful smile and reached around Tetsuya to smack Ryouta upside the back of the head.

The media laughed, charmed by the ecstatic three friends. They laughed, interrupted each other, and shared a bottle of champagne under the table since the NCAA didn’t approve of their athletes drinking on camera. So every time one of them answered, another leaned under the table for a swig. 

“Tatsuya, your three-pointers and cool demeanor helped during clutch times. What are your plans now that your NCAA career is over?”

“I’ve heard some interest this year from NBA scouts, so I’ll be entering the draft and hopefully be playing on that level next season.”

“Taiga Kagami said after his game in Phoenix today, and I quote, ‘UCLA is the best team in the NCAA, and if anyone says differently, tell Daiki to shut the hell up.’ Any comments?”

Tetsuya swallowed and handed the bottle back to Tatsuya. _“Taiga-chan is biased, and I believe Daiki-kun was also rooting for us.”_

 _“Aominecchi better have been!”_ Ryouta chimed in. 

“Perhaps he was sore after UCLA knocked out his alma mater, USC, and your old teammates, Shintarou Midorima and Kazunari Takao?” the reporter offered with a raised eyebrow. 

All three UCLA players shared a knowing glance and after a moment of silence, cracked up laughing. 

“Midorimacchi probably told Aominecchi to ‘Go die,’ the tsundere,” Ryouta explained. 

_“It seems to be his catch-phrase,”_ Tetsuya agreed. _“He texted that to us when we beat him.”_

“Did you receive any encouragement from your other ‘best rivals,’ perhaps your brother, Tetsuya?”

“ _Yes, he told me to win, and if I didn’t, he would make me work as his intern. It was imperative for us to win._

“You didn’t just win. You excelled. Taiga even predicted that you would be named Most Outstanding Player, Tetsuya.”

 _“He’s hoping to get lucky tonight.”_

“Any chances of that?” 

_“He’s traveling to Sacramento for tomorrow’s Knicks game, so most likely no.”_

After Tatsuya translated, he added, “Guys, can we please not talk about my brother’s sex life here?”

“Have you set a date yet for the wedding?”

Tetsuya whirled the topaz and silver band about his fourth finger with a subconscious smile. _”Yes. This summer.”_ ”

“ _Waitwaitwait!_ ” Ryouta swung around to whine at Tatsuya in English. “Himurocchi, did you get a Save-the-Date? Because I didn’t!”

“I didn’t either, Ryouta. Tetsuya, are you not inviting us to your wedding?”

The intense glare from two of his closest friends made Tetsuya sigh. _“Taiga-chan was supposed to send them out three months ago.”_

“You left that job to _my_ brother?” Tatsuya said incredulously. “The same person who goes out for milk and comes back with cheeseburgers?”

“ _That was only one time, and in Taiga-chan’s defense, he did bring me back a milkshake._

After laughter resounded again, Ryouta brought up the almost empty bottle of champagne and took a swig in front of the reporters. “He still forgot to send the Save-the-Dates, and I’m shooting a guest appearance on NCIS this summer! What’s the date? What’s the date! I have to be there to give you away!”

Tetsuya fought the urge to tell him that if anyone was going to give him away, it would be Seijuro or maybe Daiki but certainly not Ryouta. And he wasn’t a bride anyway. 

The media director asked the reporters to focus on the championship and not the players’ personal lives, to which a reporter asked, “How’s the wrist?”

Tetsuya flexed the appendage, smiling at the lack of pain. He let out a reserved sigh, remembering how he once thought the agonizing throbbing would never go away. _“Better, thank you.”_

Tatsuya snapped for the bottle, and Ryouta passed it to him as the reporter continued, “Any plans for next season? Will you be staying at UCLA or entering the draft with Tatsuya?”

The room seemed to freeze with the occasion snap of a camera or tapping of a pen against a pad, waiting for his answer, and Tetsuya took in a deep, bracing breath. _“I will not be working for my brother, for which I am grateful.”_

“That didn’t answer my question, Tetsuya.”

“No, it didn’t,” he replied in English with a tiny smile, and the press conference came to a close a little while later. 

As he stepped off the short platform and exited into the hallway of arena’s corridors, players and families and media clamored about, and Tetsuya followed Ryouta and Tatsuya as they headed back to the locker room for more drinking and celebrating with the team. A tiny twinge squeezed his heart, but he let it go with a quick sigh. Taiga was making more than eight figures; there was no way that he could detour after his afternoon game in Phoenix to maybe, possibly—if he were lucky and the winds were just right—get here in time to see the final minutes. 

Tetsuya caught Tatsuya’s eyes when he glanced over his shoulder, and his soon-to-be brother-in-law pulled him close to whisper, “Thank you—for all you did this season.”

“Tatsuya-san, I didn’t—”

“But you did, Kurokocchi!” Ryouta blared, snagging Tetsuya and lifting him off the ground again. “This season was so much fun, just like back in middle school! Didn’t you think so?”

Tetsuya met Ryouta’s smiling eyes, and he just couldn’t keep his own expressionless. Usually, he would stab Ryouta in the ribs for lifting him off the ground like this, but instead, he smiled. “Yes, it was amazing.”

“You were amazing,” Tatsuya insisted, and Tetsuya ducked his head as his cheeks burned. 

They were all amazing, though if Tetsuya was honest with himself, he knew he helped pull Tatsuya and Ryouta in the Zone the last few games, just like Seijuro had done in the Rakuzan game during their first Winter Cup. 

But now what? Should he head to the NBA or finish his degree at UCLA? And what about Taiga? He was still stationed in New York, and they had managed long distance, with Taiga spending summers in California and Tetsuya heading to New York when possible. They met up when Taiga’s team came to the West Coast, but Tetsuya missed him so much when they were apart. How could they do another season like this, and what if he was drafted to a West Coast team? Or worse. Some city like Boston or Charlotte? Then what would they do?

“Hey, guys! Congrats!” a brash newcomer called from behind them. “That was an awesome game. Maybe not as good as another championship but still really great.”

Tetsuya whipped about, face brightening at the familiar voice, and there in the middle of the chaotic hallway stood Taiga, dressed in a criminally tight pair of jeans with a black undershirt, a light over jacket, and Tatsuya’s ring hanging from his neck. Tetsuya didn’t even know he was moving until he jumped, arms and legs wrapping about Taiga’s warm body, his lips finding their partner’s. Taiga stumbled from the force of Tetsuya’s jump, but his hands naturally came up to cradle Tetsuya’s ass while he leaned against the corridor walls, their lips entangled in a desperate embrace. 

Taiga had come from Phoenix, had risked getting yelled at by his coach and team, and Tetsuya wanted to show his appreciation. 

“Okay, okay,” Taiga laughed when he managed to free his mouth, but Tetsuya continued unfettered, kissing Taiga’s eyelids, his neck, cheeks, and nose. His hands buried in Taiga’s hair, and he pulled Taiga’s lips into another breathless embrace. 

“And you thought _I_ have a game kink,” he murmured once Tetsuya finally let him go, and Taiga dropped him to the floor. 

“I have a Taiga kink,” Tetsuya corrected, which made Taiga’s face turn a deep crimson, and he slapped a hand over his eyes, groaning. 

“Tetsu! Geez! You don’t have to be so—”

“—attracted to you? It’s your fault, Taiga-chan. You’re wearing those jeans.”

“God!” He immediately sought the thoroughly amused Tatsuya and Ryouta, and pointed a shaking finger. “Shut up, you two!”

“Kagamicchi must be a freak in the bed, eh, Kurokocchi?” Ryouta laughed, and Taiga finally gave up with an exaggerated sigh. 

Tatsuya grinned and accepted Taiga’s hug and quick pats on the back. “Thanks for coming, bro.”

“You didn’t really think I’d miss this, did you? I got here in the third quarter, and the GM set me up in the team suite. I would have liked to have been down by Sei, though. Damn. Those were some nice seats.”

Ryouta stole a hug, too, and Tetsuya saw Taiga was confused by the lack of enthusiasm. “Maybe if you would have invited him to your wedding, he would have saved you a seat.”

“Huh?”

“Ryouta-kun, don’t get mad at Taiga-chan,” Tetsuya chastised. “That’s my job.”

“Just for the record, Kurokocchi, I am now demanding karaoke at your bachelor party.” 

“Guys?” Taiga shot confused glances at both Ryouta and Tetsuya before looking to Tatsuya for help. 

Tatsuya leaned closer to Taiga, but the whisper was still loud enough for Tetsuya to hear. “You forgot to send the Save-the-Dates for the wedding.”

Taiga’s mouth immediately dropped open, panic draining his face of color, and his hands clutched Tetsuya’s pleadingly. “What—I didn’t—But you gotta understand! I-It was that day I was heading back to New York for the playoffs, and you called me back in the house, and I totally forgot on the way to the airport and—and—they’re in my convertible back at the beach house! I can stop by on my way to Sacramento and—”

Tetsuya’s heart actually hurt watching Taiga try so hard to make him understand, and he pushed up on his toes to kiss Taiga’s lips. “It’s alright, Taiga-chan. I’m not mad. In fact, this is perfect.”

Taiga’s mouth tried to form a word that never came out, and then he pulled back, distressed and wondering. “Um…great?”

“We don’t need a big lavish ceremony to profess our love. I want you. That’s it. I don’t care how I get you,” and to emphasize his thoughts, he brushed his thumb over the band with red jewels on Taiga’s finger. “And it’ll be a small ceremony. Your dad, our brothers, Alex, and our friends. Do we really need flowers and lights and a band _and_ a DJ?”

“Are you suggesting we elope?”

“Yes.”

Taiga blinked, his eyebrows lowering and coming together in deep thought, before his hands cupped Tetsuya’s bottom. He lifted Tetsuya again until they were kissing, hot and passionately. “Okay,” he breathed, releasing Tetsuya’s lips but not his ass. “Let’s go.”

“Not today,” Tetsuya laughed, arms holding Taiga’s shoulders gently, as it was absurdly normal to simply be held in Taiga’s arms. “But soon. Maybe before your playoffs. Or after.” 

“B-But you said we could elope! You said I could have now!”

He seemed so disappointed that Tetsuya caressed Taiga’s cheek with an inviting grin. “You can…if you want.” 

After another tense moment, Taiga’s face brightened—he got Tetsuya’s innuendo—and he threw the smaller point guard over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Out of my way!” he yelled, pushing past Tatsuya and Ryouta. 

Tetsuya waved at his teammates from Taiga’s retreating back, and Ryouta snickered. 

“No game kink, my ass.”

“Actually, Tetsu’s ass—and geez! We’re talking about my brother’s sex life again!” He let out of one of those uncontrollable shivers and led Ryouta into the chaotic locker room of the champion UCLA Bruins. 

*^*^*

The wedding ended up being a bigger affair than Tetsuya wanted, but that was only because Taiga listened to Seijuro when he shouldn’t. 

“Despite what our father believes, the media portrays Tetsuya as an Akashi Heir. And you are a professional basketball player. You need a wedding befitting of your status as a power couple.”

So instead of a small chapel in Las Vegas, Taiga booked the Grand Ballroom in Bellagio. Instead of a small gathering in one of the on-site restaurants, they would have a plated, sit-down meal, and instead of booking corner suites, they bought out several penthouses. But Satsuki and Ryou helped to plan the party, not a professional wedding coordinator, and instead of pulling up at the front of the hotel, Seijuro spoke with the GM and had the entire party enter through the service doors. 

“The paparazzi are in the lobby, waiting for your grand arrival,” Seijuro greeted as soon as they exited the transfer. 

“What for?” Tetsuya asked, and Seijuro let out that tiny sigh of fond exasperation, like he couldn’t understand his brother’s innocence.

“Tetsuya, it would do us all well if you stopped being as clueless about your position in the media as you were about your own athletic ability.” 

Tetsuya stopped short of grabbing his own bag and arched one eyebrow in question, wanting Seijuro to explain his reproachful tone and apologize. 

He received another sigh and a pat on his shoulder. “The paparazzi sees you as a tamed Kardashian they can’t wait to go wild. You cannot tell me you haven’t seen the photographers on your campus and at the beach.”

Tetsuya may have stepped out of the shadows, but it still felt alien to attract so much attention. He would have chalked it all up to his famous fiancé if not for the paparazzi asking him about his father and brother’s lives. He ignored them for the most part. So what if the media watched him and Taiga run on the beach, or took pictures of him heading to class? He wasn’t doing anything scandalous, and many times he could lose them in the throngs of his students when he managed to use what was left of his weak presence. 

He said as such, and Seijuro shook his head. 

“This is your wedding, Tetsuya. You don’t want them barrage in, in the middle of your vows.”

Tetsuya cringed at the thought of his vows. He still hadn’t written those, despite having more than a month headway on them. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say; he just didn’t know how to say it. He loved Taiga, and he would never be able to thank him for saving him time and time again. He’d never been happier in his whole life, and nothing could ever make him as happy as when they were together. 

In fact, it didn’t even occur to Tetsuya that Taiga might not have sent the Save-the-Dates because he regretted asking Tetsuya to marry him—until Daiki brought it up one day on the streetball court. Even then, he was oddly satisfied that he never questioned Taiga’s commitment to him, that their love was so strong that there was no question. 

But he didn’t want to embarrass Taiga on the most important day of their lives, so he was still scribbling away on the hotel’s stationary two days later with Ryouta and Daiki fighting behind him. 

“But he was my partner first. I should be the one to give Tetsu away.”

“But Kurokocchi was my partner last. I should give him away.”

“He never broke up with me. You just borrowed him for a while.”

“ _You_ broke up with him in middle school!”

“Shut up! That’s not what happened!”

“You both are aware that I am not a bride and will not be given away,” he finally inserted, crossing out his last line. How freakin’ hard was it to simply say, “I love you more than life itself” without sounding so sappy?

The door to his suite clinked shut, and Seijuro’s commanding voice resounded over the fighting duo, despite its reserved nature. “I am Tetsuya’s older brother, so if he would allow me the privilege, I would be honored to give him away.”

Tetsuya looked up from his fifth draft in however many hours to see the earnest and if possible, nervous expression upon his twin’s face, as though Seijuro thought Tetsuya wouldn’t grant him this one request. But suddenly, it didn’t matter if he were the bride or groom. If Seijuro was willing to ask and _wanted_ to do this one task at the wedding, Tetsuya could do nothing less than grant this simple request. 

Tetsuya smiled. “Of course. I hadn’t thought of anyone else to fill such an important role.”

“Oi! Tetsu!”

“Kurokocchi!”

The door opened again, and as Tetsuya swung around to see who entered, Seijuro stepped in front of him. 

“Aniki!”

“Despite what you and our friends may think, I am not nearly as frightening as Shintarou when he believes fate has been tempted. I cannot possibly allow you to see Taiga before the ceremony, or we will all suffer Shintarou’s wrath.”

Tetsuya sighed but complied, turning around in his chair to once more face the desk. “Are you all right, Taiga-chan?”

“Yeah, uh…Tetsu?” Hesitation and uncertainty filled Taiga’s gruff voice, but before Tetsuya could turn, Taiga continued, “Look, don’t—don’t hate me, all right? But…this is our wedding, y’know? And you deserve to be happy in all aspects of your life, so…”

Kuroko glanced down at his vows and then stood—Shintarou be damned—to see Taiga, who most certainly was _not_ leaving him on their wedding day. He wasn’t, and that fact became all the more definite when Tetsuya saw not his fiancé standing in the doorway but his father, Akashi Masaomi. 

Seijuro seemed just as surprised as him, stiff and unhinged, but Daiki and Ryouta immediately exchanged shocked then conspiring glances before heading toward the door. 

“We’re going to hit the bar,” Daiki called. 

“Yeah, let us know when you need us, Kurokocchi,” Ryouta followed. 

Daiki stopped just before Masaomi, Ryouta a step behind him. “You better not upset him. It’s his wedding day, and he fucking deserves to be happy.”

“Hm.” Masaomi’s face barely changed in its intensity, though his eyebrows twitched impatiently. “And how do you intend to enforce such a threat?”

Daiki growled and began to lift his fist when Tetsuya yelled, “Daiki-kun!”

Ryouta was already pushing him out the door, though he muttered in passing, “Don’t make me get my fangirls. You will regret it.”

“So I have heard in great detail from Seijuro.”

With narrowed eyes, Ryouta hesitated for a long moment, seething Tetsuya saw, before leaving the Akashis alone in the suite. 

Seijuro greeted their father with a respectable bow, stringently formal. “Father.”

“Seijuro.”

Seijuro turned to Tetsuya then, an encouraging but quiet grin upon his still jovial face. “I will be outside. Call when you are ready for the ceremony.”

 _Or if you need me,_ was the unspoken suggestion. 

That simple kindness and brotherly love warmed Tetsuya’s heart, a defense against the brutal coldness he was about to confront. 

“Thank you, Aniki.” 

Once Seijuro closed the door behind him, Tetsuya felt the anger prickle on the edge of his nerves, but he pushed it behind a cold expression as always. “Father, I did not expect you.”

“Yes, well,” Masaomi took a step closer, hands uncharacteristically finding his pockets. “I have two business meetings in New York before I am to travel onto London. This was poor timing on your behalf. You should have consulted me before setting a date.”

“I did not factor you into our plans,” Tetsuya replied. “You made it quite clear in New York that you did not wish to see me again, so I did not believe it necessary to work around your schedule.”

“You did not believe I would want to attend my son’s wedding?”

“After I left messages with your assistant and emailed you to no avail, yes, Father, I did. And if Taiga’s initial greeting was any indication, you had no plans to attend and only did so after what I can assume were fervent pleas.”

By the sudden though subtle tension on his father’s face, Tetsuya knew he was right. 

“Your fiancé is quite persistent,” Masaomi agreed. “I always pictured you with a subdued, subservient woman, and though I have met Kagami Shou, his family is not from the predominant status an Akashi should marry—”

Somewhere between “subdued” and Kagami’s father, Tetsuya began walking toward the door. Despite all the anger percolated inside of him, most of it directed toward Taiga—What was he thinking, bringing Tetsuya’s father here?—he didn’t want to remember the most important day of his life as the final battle in the all-out war he fought against his father. Instead, he wanted to remember Daiki and Ryouta fighting, and Shintarou pretending not to care but fussing with Taiga’s tie until it was perfect. And the taste of Atsushi’s cake and the soft, proud smile Tatsuya wore as he looked at his little brother, a step behind him at the altar. 

He didn’t want to remember the absolute scorn in his father’s words or the dark scowl upon his face, so  
Tetsuya tore open the door and gestured toward the hallway, “Father, if you came here to lecture me, please leave. This is my wedding day, and not to sound like a bride but I would like to remember it fondly.”

In the hallway, Seijuro slipped his phone into his pocket and started forward, but Tetsuya indicated for him to stop. He was done hiding behind his brother and Daiki and Taiga. He would deal with his father now, and this would be the last time. 

Masaomi started forward, and Tetsuya let out an infinitesimal sigh of relief before his father slammed shut the door. Tetsuya immediately tensed and opened his mouth to respond, but Masaomi beat him to it. 

“Despite what you may think, I respect you, Tetsuya, and I am proud of your accomplishments.”

Finally, after all this time, Tetsuya got the American slang correct. “Father say what now?”

“Unlike Seijuro, you have long stopped caring what I think, and you never needed me. Even when I cut you off, you still found a way to achieve your goals, returning to the institution of your choice and rejoining your team. That is admirable.”

Tetsuya blinked. He was tempted to believe somehow he’d fallen into the Twilight Zone. That could be the only explanation. 

Masaomi’s eyes grew dark and solemn, though they never lost that callous edge. “As I told you earlier, Seijuro will be an adequate successor for our family’s company, and that was by design. I always believed you and he together would create the perfect heir. Your brother’s knowledge of foreign trade agreements and global economics is second to none, but he lacks your invincible will. You will do what you feel is right, no matter what anyone says, whereas your brother might be led to think otherwise.”

Tetsuya wanted to defend his brother against his father’s arrogance, but he simply stood there, dumbfounded by the level of trust and belief his father held for him. All this time, Masaomi actually believed he was smart enough and strong enough to rule the business world next to Seijuro?

“That is why you disappoint me, Tetsuya,” his father continued after an exhausted sigh. “You have so much potential, and you waste it to exert your physical superiority in nothing more than a longwinded love note to a far-less intellectual brute.”

Tetsuya, of course, took offense to his father calling his fiancé a brute, but everything he did for Taiga—it was a longwinded love note, wasn’t it? Taiga never understood all he did for Tetsuya. Even now, he chased after Tetsuya’s father and brought him to Vegas for their wedding, just so they could work out their differences—or at least try. 

“Father, I am humbled by your confidence in my abilities to help further your business ventures, but—I am happy, as Seijuro will be happy when he makes you proud as the leader of your company. And isn’t that what you want, ultimately? For us to be happy?” 

Masaomi’s eyes scrutinized Tetsuya with a keenly, poignant gaze, and when he spoke, his voice wasn’t its usual firm show of dominance. Instead, there was something tender and reminiscent in its soft murmur. “You remind me your mother so often.”

Tetsuya’s heart ached as a somber smile crossed his features. Not a day went by he didn’t think of his mother, and while Seijuro could simply look in the mirror and see her hair and her eyes, Tetsuya looked in the mirror to see the cold look of his father and the subdued features of his father’s parents. 

He wondered sometimes if that was why their father favored Seijuro over him—they were only fourteen minutes apart, after all—but then a hand touched his chin, fingers lightly pressing against the warm skin. His father’s hand lowered, fixing his tie with deft touches until it lay perfectly upon his chest, tucked within his vest. “Your mother—she smelled of chamomile and peony. Her eyes reminded me of the sun when it meets the horizon, very much like your brother’s, and her smile was gentle but confident, like yours after you won that game in Houston.” 

His father had seen his game, had watched him win the championship, which meant all this time, his father hadn’t been as aloof as he seemed. Perhaps they would never be as close as Kagami Shou and Taiga, but perhaps they could more than strangers who shared a last name. Perhaps they could even be friends. 

But Masaomi’s disappointed front remained as he glanced over Tetsuya’s shoulder to read the papers scattered about the suite’s desk. “You have not finished your vows yet, Tetsuya? That is unacceptable.”

Tetsuya hummed. “Yes, I do believe Taiga-chan will be disappointed as well, especially if I show up at the altar with nothing to say.”

Masaomi turned his back on Tetsuya as he began his promenade about the room. “He means a lot to you. Kagami Taiga.”

Slowly falling to the seat, Tetsuya nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“Why?”

Tetsuya inhaled a sharp breath, an endless list of reasons flashing through his head. Because Taiga was there for him when no one else was. Because Taiga looked at him like no one else did. Because Taiga saw him. Because Taiga wove him into the very fabric of his life so tightly that not even a year apart could tear them asunder. Because no matter how he saw his life, Taiga was always in it. 

He told his father just that. 

“Then that is what you need to tell him.” Masaomi urged. “Tell him how much he means to you, how you would truly be lost without him. How when he leaves a room, the light follows him, and if he were to ever leave, you would simply cease to exist. That the person you once were, you could never be again, and the very people whom you cherish most, would no longer remember who you used to be.”

At some point, Tetsuya realized his father stopped talking about him and Taiga, and Tetsuya tried to remember back, prior the loneliness and isolation he felt in middle school. And yes, though the memories were more feelings than actual sights and smells, there were family outings and light-hearted dinners and evenings in the living room, he and his brother playing on the floor while their mother laughed and their father finished a report. While he worked hard and pushed Seijuro harder, Masaomi had always been _there_ when they were younger, a constant presence like their mother. And while the illness took their mother physically, it also took their father mentally and emotionally. 

Tetsuya walked forward and said nothing, coming to stand alongside his father by the window and hoping his presence was enough. They stared out at the colorful strip and beyond it, the fiery desert. Neither spoke. The blatant apology was there for Tetsuya to accept or reject, so there was nothing to say, except—

“I think I knew, even back at Seirin that very first day, that you would mean more to me than a basketball partner,” Tetsuya said as he stood in the ballroom of Bellagio, the elegant, crystal chandelier shimmering above them. Seijuro, Daiki, and Ryouta stood behind him while Tatsuya, Shintarou—ironically—and Kiyoshi filled out Taiga’s groomsmen. Alex and both of the grooms’ fathers sat in the front of the intimate gathering with only a handful of their UCLA teammates and friends beside them. 

It was a lovely ceremony with cream and red roses in crystal vases, platinum accents on the plates and in the centerpieces, and each groom wearing a single rose on the left breast. Nigou served as the ring bearer while Momoi was the flower girl, which she took great pride in, sprinkling cream and red petals along the white runner. 

But everything else faded into the background as Tetsuya saw no one but the handsome sight before him—Taiga dressed in a specialty-cut Armani tuxedo with a black-tie and a proud but giddy smile upon his face. He looked more than _fine_ in the tight suit, and Tetsuya couldn’t wait to get him out of it. His own expression matched Taiga’s ecstatic one, despite his usual subdued expression, and he squeezed his soon-to-be husband’s hands between his own. 

“Your eyes were fierce and proud, but sad, too, looking for the same answer I sought. And I cannot express how fortunate I am to have found my answer in you.

“My father told me today that the last few years of my life have been nothing more than a long-winded love note I’ve been writing for you. I realized he was right, and I don’t want to stop writing. I want to tell you every day how much I love you, and that nothing else matters as long as I have you. Wherever you are, is my home, and even if I’m no longer shadow, I will always be your shadow. And nothing could make me happier. Thank you for lending me more than your strength. Thank you giving me your heart.” He slipped the red ruby ring about Taiga’s finger and then added quickly, “Oh, and I love that you smell of cheeseburger and pine, and I never want to be without that scent again.”

He nodded his head once, satisfied with his answer, though Taiga looked like he was simultaneously dumbfounded and embarrassed. He battled through his red face and countered with a stuttered, “Y-You’re my other half, y’know? You say embarrassing shit, like you did right now, but you’re wrong. You’re not my shadow. You’re my everything, and I can’t imagine my life without you. 

“I sometimes try to remember what it was like before we met, but I can’t really. It’s like you’ve always been here, and I like that because it makes me think that maybe in some way we were meant for each other, y’know? Your air sign fuels my earth—”

“Fire!” Shintarou snapped, and Taiga quickly recovered, “Fire! Your air sign fuels my fire sign, and—and oh, the hell with it. You’re not marrying me for words, right?”

Tetsuya laughed. “That is true.”

“So I love you.” He slipped the topaz ring back onto Tetsuya’s finger, and even though Tetsuya and the ring had only been apart minutes, it had felt like an eternity. “Marry me.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here to do.” Belated, Tetsuya leaned forward to whisper, “Shintarou added the part about the signs?”

Taiga muttered back, “You think?”

But it didn’t matter. Tetsuya loved Taiga for more than his awkward phrases and his pointlessly-large body. In fact, he loved Taiga because of the sum of his parts, including those two wonderfully amusing aspects, so when Taiga lifted Tetsuya effortlessly off the ground to seal their lips and future, Tetsuya wanted to continue the ministrations, despite their public setting. 

Even with their small gathering, the party ran long into the night, and by the end, Atsushi was carrying Tatsuya back to their room while Kazunari hiccupped on Shintarou’s shoulder. Ryouta fell asleep with his head in Yukio’s lap—Ryouta hadn’t let his precious senpai return to Japan since he came to “chastise” Ryouta more than a year ago—and Yukio sought help from Daiki to bring him back to their room. Reo coaxed a very drunken Seijuro up to their room after he took “losing” his little brother harder than Tetsuya anticipated. He’d have to stop over tomorrow morning with some scones and tea to show Seijuro nothing had changed between them. 

But something had changed. Tetsuya felt more complete inside as he walked hand-and-hand with Taiga along the long but opulent corridors back to their penthouse suite, like the part of him he never knew was missing was finally found, and he cherished the simple warm feel of Taiga’s hand in his own and the always present scent of cheeseburgers and pine. 

Taiga interrupted their peaceful bliss with a drowsy tone, “I have never seen Tatsuya down that many beers before. God, I thought he was going to puke right there on the table.”

“That would have been unfortunate, but I believe Aniki might have beaten him in total.”

“Nah. I think your brother just got drunk quicker,” Taiga rambled, swinging his and Tetsuya’s joined hands. He must have been a tipsy, and Taiga could hold his liquor. “My brother still had more beer. Hey, how’d it go with your dad? Everything cool between you two?”

Tetsuya doubted things would be ever “cool” between his father and him, but they were certainly better. He told Taiga that, to which Taiga sighed. “Aw, man. I didn’t see him go. I wanted to thank him for coming.”

Perhaps that was for the best. Tetsuya still debated on how to tell Taiga he’d seen his father in the hallway of the private bathrooms, pressed up against the wall by Alex. He, himself, couldn’t wrap his alcohol-drenched brain around that match and decided to ignore that little fact for tonight. Possibly forever.

Tetsuya hummed thoughtfully, laying his head against Taiga's bicep—he didn’t even reach his husband’s shoulder anymore. 

His husband. Taiga was his _husband_ now. He couldn’t stop the euphoric smile from overtaking his face, and he didn’t want to. Taiga noticed, suddenly pressing Tetsuya against the hallway wall and captured his lips in a lazy but thorough kiss that managed still, after all these years, to steal Tetsuya’s breath. His hands cradled Taiga’s face, his thumbs resting upon Taiga’s cheekbones, and they acted like a frame for those intense and fiery eyes that promised to devour him in every way he ever imagined and wanted. 

Taiga had changed his life completely, taking a lonely high school outcast and inviting him into his life. Together, they managed to create their own little family, which eventually expanded to include the friends Tetsuya had lost in middle school. And now, it was once again just the two of them, and Tetsuya couldn’t quite believe the kind-hearted person before him actually existed. When he slept next to Taiga, he sometimes knotted their fingers together to feel the proof of Taiga’s life, and when he woke up alone, he opened his phone to the camera app and flipped through pictures of his life with Taiga. 

But Taiga also lived with fear, Tetsuya saw as he waded through Taiga’s soul. In his eyes burned a tiny uncertainty, begging Tetsuya not to make them live another year apart, only seeing each other when their schedules synced. They were more than just a couple now. They were spouses, tied together in every way that mattered, and instead of pressing up on his toes, he tugged Taiga down to his height for a searing embrace. 

He would never know what he did to deserve Kagami Taiga, and he only hoped to one day prove himself worthy of such a man. 

“Taiga-chan had to get the chocolate cake,” Tetsuya complained, face scrunched even as Taiga laughed. 

“There was vanilla icing.”

“Hm. Still not enough to get the taste of my mouth—or yours.”

“Tetsuya, have you—have you made a decision between UCLA and the NBA?” 

Taiga was asking him this on their wedding night? Well, perhaps it was for the best. Though they were married, that wouldn’t stop the insurmountable distance, which would keep them apart most of the next year if Tetsuya chose one situation over another. And even if he entered the draft, he might be chosen by a West Coast team, but Tetsuya had faith. He always would believe in Taiga-chan. 

“I meant what I said,” Tetsuya murmured against his husband’s lips, unable to let him wander far. “Wherever you are, is my home. I’m not leaving Taiga-chan’s side again.”

Taiga became absolutely feral then, a devious, animalistic grin parting his lips, and then he lifted Tetsuya up, mouth open to dance with Tetsuya’s tongue as he carried his husband the rest of the hallway. Tetsuya surrendered to Taiga’s embraces, legs wrapped about his husband’s waist, fingers tangling in Taiga’s fiery hair, and then they were fumbling with the penthouse door. Tetsuya threw back his head, giving Taiga full access to his neck, and they tumbled through the doorway, knocking against the room service tray already set up. 

On top of the white-clothed table sat several bags from In-N-Out Burger, complete with three vanilla shakes. 

Tetsuya smiled down at his husband, whose cheeks bloomed with fresh color. “Taiga-chan spoils me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled.”

Tetsuya wished the tears stinging the edge of his eyes away, but they refused. Instead, they blurred his vision as he pressed his forehead against his husband’s. 

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

Taiga was being too generous, but in the back of his mind, Tetsuya thought, perhaps, this was the way it was supposed to be. 

They fed each other—or Tetsuya fed Taiga while Taiga placed the straw to Tetsuya’s lips—and they relaxed with their suits open and ties gone. By the time they finished their gourmet meal, they acted like the old, married couple they already were. Instead of having wild, kink-filled sex, they passed out on the king-sized bed, fully clothed and in each other’s arms. 

*^*^*

“Eh?” Daiki narrowly missed the front of the rim and slammed his head against the backboard, shouting more than one expletive. A few reporters muttered to edit that part out while TMZ screamed to place the footage on their website immediately. Daiki ignored them as he swung around to growl, “What do you mean, this is going to be our last tournament for a while? Tetsu, you live less than ten blocks from here.”

The streetball court was loud this Saturday morning with the crowds even bigger since Ryouta joined the UCLA team. Plus, with Taiga and Daiki both in the NBA, basketball enthusiasts flocked to the LA destination to watch two pros, one TV star, and a handful of NCAA players duke it out in a three-on-three, prison-ball tournament. Unfortunately, Taiga had to head back to the East Coast the day after their wedding for the start of the playoffs, and Tetsuya went back to UCLA to finish up the semester. 

The semester was set to end early next week, and with Taiga still in the playoffs, Tetsuya was heading to the East Coast to be with his husband until the summer came and they returned to the West Coast to be with their friends and Taiga’s dad. 

Only he didn’t say any of that as Tatsuya came forward, bouncing the ball between his legs. “We’re actually not going to be here, either. Atsushi and I. I’ve been getting a few calls from some NBA scouts, and they’ve invited me for interviews.”

“Hm. You better choose a West Coast team, Tatsu. There’s no one fun to play out here.”

“Except on this court,” Seijuro interjected. 

“You have no idea,” Daiki muttered, absolutely exasperated. “Our games are so much intense than real ones.”

“So where are you going, Tetsuya?” Reo asked in a coaxing purr. “Have you made your decision?”

Before he could answer, Ryouta ploughed into him, arms wrapping around his neck as he sobbed uncontrollably about losing his dear Kurokocchi.

*^*^

Tetsuya’s plane landed late, so he texted Taiga and said he’d meet him at the arena. So much had changed since that day he went charging down Broadway and emotionally blackmailed a security guard to let him into Madison Square Garden. This time, he just walked up to the guard, who smiled and recognized him, letting him enter with a friendly greeting. He navigated the congested corridors, nodding and offering kind smiles to those who noticed him. Perhaps it was awkward now, having lost his weak presence and being thrust into the spotlight, first as a player in his own right and then as Kagami Taiga’s partner, but he minded it less than he thought he would. He appreciated being noticed, though he could do without the paparazzi camped out at their building’s every other day. 

Jasmine, Victoria, and all the wives and partners greeted him as he entered the private suite. He smiled at them and offered idle chitchat before stepping down the few stairs to the seats in the box. He took his usual one, front row, third in, and within a minute, Taiga looked up from the court, finding him instantly. Tetsuya’s smile was a reflex now when he saw Taiga, and Taiga returned it before dashing down the court at full-speed. Tetsuya wasn’t sure, but he thought that resounding dunk was a greeting. 

A rather tall person flopped down in the seat next to him and sighed purposefully loud. Tetsuya rolled his eyes but eventually met Danny’s stubborn gaze. “Is there something I may do for you, Danny-san?”

“Dude, you’ve made him wait long enough, don’t you think? It’s time, man.”

Yes, Tetsuya agreed. It was.

*^*^*

_“…And that’s just the East Coast colleges, Bob. Out on the west, UCLA looks to have an incredible year at the draft. The team’s former star shooting guard, Tatsuya Himuro, is rumored to go first round, perhaps even in the top ten with the year he put up.”_

_“But the fight for first place overall is already over, isn’t it, Tim? And boy, does this Draft Day brings back memories to the NFL Draft back in 2003 when Eli Manning refused to play for the San Diego Chargers. After being selected first overall, he was immediately traded to the New York Giants.”_

_“And New York is at again, this time, with the Knicks. If you haven’t heard yet, Tetsuya Akashi, the dominant point guard out of UCLA, decided to enter the draft this year, but despite the initial frenzy it created among lower rung teams, he’s already made his choice. Sources close to Akashi say he will only play for the New York Knicks, the team his husband currently helms, and the Knicks supposedly are ready deal with a package lined up.”_

_“Three drafts picks this year alone, two great forwards, and I believe they even threw in cell service for a whole year for the Sacramento Kings and their front office—not bad.”_

_“I wonder if the package includes roaming.”_

_“This is Tetsuya Akashi we’re talking about.”_

_“True. True. Do you think they’ll go through with it? Sacramento could call Akashi’s bluff about not signing.”_

_“We’ll find out right now as the Sacramento Kings’ GM, Vlade Divac, heads to the podium.”_

*^*^*

The sold-out crowd of 19,812 at Madison Square Garden screamed at the top of their lungs until their voices became so blaringly loud that Tetsuya’s ears rang. That was nothing new. During the march to the Final Four, the fans’ shouts grew in intensely until Tetsuya learned how to drown them out and focus on the game at hand. 

But today, he couldn’t. He heard every single yell, every single cheer, and as he watched the players take the court, he began to think Shintarou was right. Perhaps it took almost a decade, but Tetsuya believed in fate. For the first game of the season, the New York Knicks were set to battle the Los Angeles Lakers. 

Daiki sought out Taiga to exchange their usual trash talk, but after knowing each other more than five years, they no longer were best rivals or even best friends. They were brothers in battle and perhaps, in Tetsuya’s mind, brothers-in-law. 

Tetsuya couldn’t help but smile, and of course, Taiga noticed then and turned, finding him immediately. His infectious smile reached his eyes, and then Daiki followed his gaze, his own challenging grin different than usual. It was still brash, but there was a relief there, like he’d worried this moment would never come. 

Taiga held no reservations, but even though it was Daiki who spoke first, “You’ve kept me waiting long enough,” Taiga shared his sentiment. 

Tetsuya fixed his wristbands and stepped onto the court, wearing his own Knicks’ jersey for the first time. “Sorry, but I’ll make it worth your wait,” he promised. 

Taiga greeted him with his fist out for Tetsuya to pump, and the point guard stared at it for a few seconds. When Taiga first offered it, he hadn’t known about his past with Daiki or the truth about the Generation of Miracles. Taiga had just wanted something to profess their new found connection, their fledging partnership, a way to prove that he wouldn’t leave Tetsuya behind like his best friends had.

Six years later—Tetsuya had lost count of how many days—a fist pump still said everything they felt for each other better than any words could. 

So Tetsuya returned it—and grabbed a fistful of Taiga’s ass as he passed. He’d promised to work his ass for Taiga all those years ago; Taiga could at least return the favor. 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Omake:_
> 
>  
> 
> Seijuro lived at Taiga’s apartment. He really didn’t mind. When Tetsuya and he were apart, Seijuro was the one, out of all their friends, that kept the closest contact with him. Perhaps Seijuro knew he and Tetsuya would always get back together, or maybe Seijuro was lonely in New York when he had to visit his father. And Taiga was a friendly face. 
> 
> Seijuro and Tetsuya were close as brothers, as close as Tatsuya and Taiga, so it didn’t surprise Taiga that Seijuro came over most nights when in New York, now that Tetsuya and Taiga were married. What he didn’t expect was having his ass slapped startlingly hard as he leaned over the refrigerator to get a beer. 
> 
> Seijuro’s face was deviously evil as he sipped his tea. “Tetsuya and I are twins, Taiga. Do you know what that means?”
> 
> Taiga gulped and shook his head. 
> 
> “We share everything,” Seijuro whispered. “ _Everything._ ”
> 
> Taiga had heard about those slutty twins who liked to share partners and each other’s bodies, but Taiga didn’t want to share Tetsuya with anyone, especially his brother—or share himself, for that matter. 
> 
> Tetsuya trotted into the kitchen, glancing between Seijuro’s dark eyes and Taiga’s ghost white face before glaring at Seijuro. “Aniki, we just got married. Could you please wait a whole five minutes before breaking my husband?” 
> 
> Seijuro hummed, and Taiga shot glances between the twins. Tetsuya had his arm wrapped around Seijuro’s neck, drawing him close, intimately so, while Seijuro dragged his pink tongue along his bottom lip. Oh, God. They weren’t—They couldn’t expect him to—he couldn’t! 
> 
> “His head is going to explode, but he won’t cheat on you,” Seijuro said factually as he turned to leave the room. “Excellent choice, Tetsuya. You picked a good one.”
> 
> Tetsuya laughed. “Yes, I do have impeccable taste.”
> 
> “Nice ass, too.”
> 
> Taiga’s head then did, in fact, explode.


End file.
